


Chasing Shadows

by laireshi



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Angst, Cap_Ironman Reverse Bang Challenge, Early Avengers Canon, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Happy Ending, Identity Porn, M/M, Secret Identity, Tony Feels, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1561226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is still adjusting to the future. Tony hopes he is helping, but Steve's and Iron Man's morals might be too different for them to work together. Then Steve starts to act strangely, and all Tony can do is chase at shadows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Really really big thank you to [with-extra-cheese](http://with-extra-cheese.tumblr.com). Your art is simply wonderful and I'm so glad I could write a fic for it!  
> Spoiler warning for the art. The link is [here](http://with-extra-cheese.tumblr.com/post/84601619841/cap-ironman-rbb-art-colaborative-partner-was) :) Or the permalinks: [1](http://24.media.tumblr.com/f6e0be5d168058d2b192097845d9ba10/tumblr_n4zrfzB6iQ1rt8qkxo2_1280.jpg) and [2](http://24.media.tumblr.com/e099561f73addc5ce56ff0858c9c2e0f/tumblr_n4zrfzB6iQ1rt8qkxo1_1280.jpg).
> 
> Thank you to [nightwalker](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nightwalker) and [MemoryDragon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MemoryDragon/) for betaing it.
> 
> This was a weird fic for me to write, to be honest. So I really want to say thank you to [Shaliara](http://shaliara.tumblr.com/), [NohaIjiachi](http://shaliara.tumblr.com/) and [Salmastryon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmastryon/). For holding my hand, talking me through the hardest scenes and cheering me on when I couldn't look at this fic.
> 
> [Phenominable_Snowman](http://archiveofourown.org/users/phenominable_snowman/), you are my Steve. So thank you for all the discussions, and for that one line of yours I used here.
> 
> This story is set in early canon, when no one knows Tony is Iron Man, and Steve is just out of the ice.

"We have to," Iron Man said.

Captain America hesitated visibly.

"You can't be serious." The Wasp was flying just in front of his face.

"We can't," he said, heavily.

***

 _Tony's radars alerted him that_ something _happened in Latveria._

 _It wasn't much. He couldn't get a good read-out on the terrain; international arrangements and Doom's –_ magic _– cloaking tech stopping him from having a satellite view of the country, but he had a few, admittedly not very good sensors there and along the borders, and the readings were alarming at best._

_He knew Doom had weapons of mass destruction hidden under a smaller town of his. Everyone knew, really, and no one was overly worried, because if the leader of a country wore a suit of armour and threw fireballs around, nuclear weaponry lost its scale somehow._

_Except he was preparing them now. It seemed like a slow process, as if he was_ changing _something too – Tony didn't want to think the m-word, but he thought he rather had to._

_And then Strange, somehow troubled, appeared in the middle of Tony's lab and asked him for help. And Tony promised to call Iron Man and have him ask the Avengers._

_Because Doom needing a fucking huge human sacrifice was just what they needed._

_The Avengers took a Quinjet almost to Doom's borders._

_"Do we have any ideas on how to stop him?" The Wasp asked and awkward silence fell._

_Tony had been dreading that moment ever since his talk with Strange. He'd gone over what he knew of Doom's technology, he'd asked the questions on magic, and then he'd remembered why he was a super hero._

_His weapons harmed too many people already. He wanted to help, now. Not to blow more things up. He was tempted to risk it. To try and talk with Doom, ignoring the almost ready weapon aimed at New York. He wanted to do it, so much. He thought of evacuating – the whole fucking East Coast. In a matter of days. Of doing it and not starting a nuclear war, when the rockets hit._

_"We blow the weapon up," he said aloud, the armour's filters making his voice sound steady._

_"Blow it up," Captain America repeated. "And that's it?"_

_He wished he could say 'yes'._

_"The town won't survive it." A beat. "Maybe the country."_

_He didn't want to do it, and Captain America didn't look as if he was sure of anything. His fingers gripped his shield, tightly._

_"If it's . . ." he stopped himself. "So many things have changed in the world," he said quietly. "When I woke up. I still don't know. But this –"_

_This what, Tony wanted to ask, and Captain America was silent._

***

"It's a whole town, maybe more," Iron Man said, tiredly. "But it's that or the East Coast."

"You can't, Iron Man."

"You considered it moments ago yourself!"

Captain America looked almost ashamed, but he shook his head and looked straight at Iron Man, his blue eyes visible through the helmet. "I won't let you."

"It's not a choice, Cap."

"It's a city full of innocent people."

"I don't know, they consider Doom their rightful king, does that sound innocent . . ." Iron Man trailed off, because jokes were one thing, but these people – they were innocent.

And they had to kill them.

He did all the calculations. He knew the power of that bomb. He knew Doom would use it.

"I know bombs," he said. "I – Mr Stark taught me a lot. There won't be New York left."

"He's right," Ant-Man said. "But we can't – it's not a solution, Iron Man."

"So you all would rather stand here and do nothing?" Iron Man said, disbelievingly.

"Find another way," Cap said. "Find it quickly."

"There isn't another way!" He wanted to scream. Why didn't they get it? He'd been over it a million times.

"And how do you know it?!" Cap shouted. "There is always a way."

"Not here." Iron Man shook his head.

"I can't believe you would even consider –" Cap cut himself off.

"I can't believe you'd sacrifice everything else," Iron Man replied. He forced himself not to make his hands into fists.

An open palm was more dangerous from him anyway.

"We're not murderers, Iron Man. Those are innocents," Cap said quietly.

Yeah, easy to say. Tony knew that. "And what about the people back in the States?"

"Not by this price." Cap had a stubborn set to his jaw. So he found his morals now. Fucking fantastic.

Tony wanted to agree with him and couldn't, because this one time – this one time, Cap wasn't right. Oh, he was, of course. But what he suggested wasn't the right thing to do. Hating himself, Tony said, "No price is too high."

"Because the end justifies the means, is that so, Iron Man?" Captain America asked.

"Yes," Iron Man replied without a pause.

"And it's a necessary evil." Steve paused. "So will a time come you'll just drop the 'necessary' from that sentence and proceed anyway?"

Tony felt as if someone stabbed him.

"I thought you were better than that, Iron Man," Captain America said and turned back.

***

Hank was looking at the schematics. He didn't like weapons, he didn't make them, he didn't have Tony's experience with them – but then, neither had Iron Man, for all the Avengers knew.

"Iron Man," he said. "Come here."

Tony did, feeling very weary. He knew the blueprints by heart. He couldn't see a way out. He pretended to be looking at them with interest anyway.

"Mister Stark showed me them."

"Yeah, Mister Stark likes to focus on the big scale," Ant-Man said, and circled a part of the schematics. It was just an outer shell, nothing interesting here . . . _Oh._

Okay, he could agree with him that once.

It could work. If they could get someone inside – that someone could just fly between the elements to the central mechanism. And stop it there. Blow up the trigger, so to speak.

Probably with the person still inside, but it was a small sacrifice to make.

"Can you make me that small?" Iron Man asked, finally.

Hank shook his head. "No, unless you take the armour off –" he stopped himself. "I'm sorry, Iron Man, I'm not asking –"

Tony would, right now, because his identity didn't mean _that_ much, but without the chest plate he wouldn't survive long enough to stop the mechanism.

"What's the problem?" Jan asked. "I can get that small and I don't need tech to blast it."

"No," he said, immediately. "It's –" suicidal, that's what it was. But if he could save everyone – his own life didn't mean much. 

"Are you suggesting I won't get your oh so difficult plan or is it about me being a woman?" Jan jabbed her finger at him.

"I'm not sure it'll work," he said.

"But you don't have another solution."

"We can still blow it up."

"No we can't," Captain America said.

Jan stared at Iron Man. "You know, if you count one city less important than the whole West Coast, clearly you should count one person less important than a whole city."

"You know it's not . . ."

"And you know what? I _agree_." She flew closer to him. "If I can help, I will."

He was very grateful for the mask over his face.

***

If Jan died, he'd never forgive himself. He was selfish. He'd always known that. He preferred to blow up a city instead of risk one person he cared for. If that made him a villain, so be it. She was getting ready with Hank, and Tony couldn't breathe behind his mask. Cap wasn't looking at him. 

It was better this way.

Iron Man turned and walked to Jan and Hank just in time to see him carefully, almost shyly, touch her cheek briefly.

"Sorry," Iron Man said. "Do you need any help?"

"No, I think I got it. Hank said I had to get to the trigger mechanism, yes?"

"Well, it's not a trigger in the literal meaning –" Jan was rolling her eyes. Ah. "Yes."

"Then I'm good to go." She smiled brightly and became small, flew in front of his face mask, and then she disappeared. He could still see her if he used warmth readings, but that was it.

She returned to her normal tiny size and waved at him. "See? I'll do it."

"Be careful," he said. "After you destroy it – it may autodestruct, I don't know about it, there may be fail-safes, I . . ." He stopped. "It should be me going there."

"It can't be you, Iron Man."

He bowed his head. "I wish it could."

"Hey." Jan sat on his arm. "Iron Man. Would you . . . if Hank didn't get this idea. What would you do?"

"He got it, and that's what counts," he said, and he knew his real answer was obvious enough. "Be safe, Jan."

"I will," she flew away from him to Cap. Tony watched as he let her sit in his palms and they spoke quietly.

He could try and knock them all out – he could do that and blow the town up. They'd hate him, but they'd all be alive. Jan would be alive. But she flew away, alone, without even a communicator, and they could only wait.

A team.

Hank didn't even try to talk to them. Cap was polishing his shield again, facing a tree. Tony wished he could take the damn armour off and work on it, do anything, and knew if he tried to talk to either of them, he'd be met with silence or accusations.

He deserved it.

No one asked how long they would wait, because they all knew – as long as it would take. Tony didn't want to say, _she isn't coming back_. He wanted a drink. Did they keep any alcohol in the Quinjet? He was too sober to deal with it.

***

Hank Pym jumped. And screamed. It sounded as _joy_. Iron Man and Captain America stood up, immediately, and ran to him, and – 

Yes.

Jan sat on his arm. Jan. Alive and well. She didn't even look harmed. She had one leg over the other and was laughing, and she was the most beautiful thing Tony's ever seen.

"You did it," he said, feeling weak with relief.

"I told you." She was so pleased with herself. "Oh, you were worried. Don't underestimate me, boys."

"Never," Steve said, something weird in his voice. "Never, Jan."

***

The fight was hard. 

It was Doom – apparently he didn't take covertly destroying his weapons and chances for some sacrifice ritual lightly – and a few Doombots, each identical, were attacking Stark Industries.

They'd only just landed the Quinjet in the mansion before the call came. Iron Man sighed. If only Cap would actually talk to him on the field. They understood each other very well, as always, but there was a level of uncertainty, and something was . . . lacking.

Maybe it was trust.

He didn't deserve anything better, but he'd prefer to stop Doom from destroying his company in a quickly manner.

The Wasp was as efficient as always, at least, blasting at the Doombots, working with Ant-Man, effortlessly.

"Iron Man!" he heard, and immediately looked at Steve, who was looking over him, his hand poised to throw the shield. Tony dropped just as Cap let it fly, and then rolled and used his repulsors to end what Cap's shield began.

He wanted to wave his thanks, but Cap was already looking into another direction.

Usually he checked if – 

It really wasn't a good moment, Tony told himself, avoiding a shot. 

He looked around briefly. "Cap –" he started to shout, but it was too late. A Doombot somehow avoided the shield and punched Steve in the face, sending him flying back. Tony was in motion already, and fired a repulsor at the Doombot, and at another one, and landed over Steve.

His nose was bleeding, but it seemed as if it was the worst of the damage. "I didn't notice him," he said, somehow surprised.

"Happens to the best, Cap."

"Thank you, Iron Man," Cap said, suddenly colder. He stood up and seemed steady enough.

"I don't think you should go back – we can handle them."

"I'm okay, Iron Man," Cap said, sharply, and picked up his shield. In the next second, he destroyed two Doombots.

Okay then.

Tony noticed another one behind Jan and fired his repulsors at it, burning its circuits. Silence fell.

He looked around. He didn't really want to think of property damage. Stark Industries would need a few windows changed. The street around them would need a renovation. "Mister Stark will pay for all the damage," he said and took off.

***

It wasn't a disaster, Tony thought, pouring himself a drink, but close to. Too close. All of it. Clearly, they should talk things out with Cap, before someone else attacked. But the look on Steve's face when he realised what Iron Man said– it wasn't something Tony could forget any time soon.

He thought they were friends. Well, Iron Man and Steve. And now . . . The whole way back, Cap hadn't even looked at him. They'd all been overjoyed at having Jan back, safe and sound, and Cap wouldn't look at him, because Iron Man was just such a disappointment. Not the ideal robot of the future, after all, but just a very flawed man inside. A man, who, so it seemed, was against everything Cap stood for.

And yet, Tony knew that Steve had thought of the possibility of blowing that town up. He had, and he had hesitated. Maybe he was afraid. Or maybe it was just what he said, maybe he was still trying to find himself in this new century.

Tony tried to take a sip and noticed his glass was empty. Huh. When did that happen? He poured himself another and downed it. Really, there were things he shouldn't do sober, and thinking of the Avengers right now was one of them.

There was a knock on the door. One of the Avengers or Jarvis. Tony made sure his shirt was safely buttoned up and opened the door.

Steve.

Steve, who probably despised him right now . . . _No_. Steve, who yeah, who despised Iron Man, and Steve, who slowly was getting closer to Tony Stark.

He should just tell Steve the truth, but he couldn't stand the thought of bearing Steve's reaction then. Not even how disappointed he'd look in Tony for sure, no; but he would feel hurt and betrayed, and Tony – he'd never wanted that. He couldn't do it sober.

"Come in, Steve," he said, going to the bottle. "A drink?"

"No." Well, that wasn't a surprise. "Tony, are you sure you should drink that much?" he asked. There was just worry and hesitation in his voice, nothing that could really annoy Tony, but the question...

"Yes, Cap, I'm very sure," he snapped against himself. "Sorry. A tough night." He laughed without humour. "For you too, from what I've heard."

He poured himself another glass, but didn't drink it yet. Steve was strangely tense. "So . . . Iron Man talked to you after the mission?"

"No, not really," Tony said. He didn't want to have the very same argument. "He looked tired, after Latveria and Stark Industries here . . ." Tony shook his head. "Jan said she saved the day and I'm inclined to believe her, though." He smiled.

"That she did," Steve admitted. "I don't really want to talk . . . It was a hard night, Tony, and – I guess I wanted to talk to a friend. Or . . ."

Tony nodded. "Or?"

Steve _blushed_. Oh, and wasn't that interesting.

"Or." Steve said. "Well, it's spring."

Only now did Tony notice Steve was hiding something behind his back – just how was he that distracted . . . ? That wasn't normal.

Maybe Steve was right. Maybe he should cut down on drinking.

And then Steve pulled out a few wild flowers – poppies, cornflowers – and a tulip? – _oh_. 

"Are you trying to _woo_ me with the flowers from my garden?" Tony asked, smiling. It was adorable, really.

"Actually, I thought it'd be nice for you to see something of the outside world, Tony," Steve joked, handing him the flowers. "I don't confirm nor deny anything else."

Tony laughed, delighted, all his hesitations pushed aside. He'd get back to them later – he always did, eventually. For now he had Steve to enjoy.

"Sit down, Steve. Let me make you coffee at least?"

"Your coffee would kill a normal man," Steve answered.

"Don't _ever_ insult my coffee," Tony warned him playfully. Steve seemed to be relaxing around him. The tired, tense look was disappearing from his face at least.

"I wonder sometimes," Steve said suddenly. "You helped me so much – I wouldn't understand the world as well without you. But sometimes it's . . . What if something else changed? Something big? I have my rules and morals, or I have nothing, and yet . . . I'm just an obsolete soldier who should've died decades ago."

Tony wasn't prepared to deal with it, not when he knew where these doubts came from. And he couldn't leave Steve alone, not now.

He stood up and walked to Steve, put his hands on Steve's shoulders. "Steve. Steve, look at me."

Slowly, Steve did. He looked so unsure. So lost. So lonely.

"You're not "just" anything. You're Steve Rogers, and if you woke up here, that means something. You're Steve Rogers, and that's all that should matter."

"But I didn't change with the world," Steve whispered. "What if what I consider right, isn't anymore?"

"It doesn't work like that, Steve. You are a good man. You can see what's right. You don't need a compass for that."

 _I need. You._ But he didn't say that.

Steve nodded slowly. "Thank you, Tony."

Tony, suddenly, wanted to hug him, except then Steve would notice the metal under his shirt, and Tony wasn't ready for this question.

"It's about you, Steve. Not Captain America. You're the one who counts."

Steve gave him a sad smile, but he didn't look quite so desperate anymore, so Tony counted it as win. He'd never wanted to give him doubts like that. He still knew that if Hank didn't find the solution, if it didn't exist, his way was right.

That didn't mean Cap's wasn't, either.

***

Steve still trusted him and it was like a punch to the gut. Tony didn't deserve it. But telling him now – it would shatter him.

He told himself it was just that. Not just selfishness, not just because he wanted them to be friends another day.

He told himself that and tried to drown the doubts in the bottle.

Someone opened the door. "Tony?" Steve's voice.

"Yeah, here," he called, not moving from his arm chair. Steve came into his field of view. He looked different than he had before, but Tony wasn't exactly sure how much time had passed.

He should cut down on drinking, but how, if Steve trusted him with his fears and despised Iron Man for his morals?

"Hey, Tony." Steve put a fresh bottle of whiskey – good stuff, Tony noticed – on the table next to his glass.

He preferred the flowers, really.

"Sorry for being . . . earlier."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Tony said, because that much he was sure of. Always would be.

"I just . . . I know the Avengers business is one thing, and you only pay for it, but . . . "

 _Ouch_. That hurt. That really, unexpectedly, stupidly hurt. It was the truth, from Steve's point of view, and Tony realised it, but to hear it . . . It hurt.

"But, Tony, the last mission."

"I've heard of it, yes," he cut in. He already knew Steve's next question.

"What would you do?"

Tony didn't answer.

"I thought you were different . . ." Steve trailed off, didn't finish the sentence, and that was for the best, because Tony wouldn't know how to deal with it if he did.

As it was, Steve just looked down on him, disappointment on his face, and left.

The new bottle stood on the table.

***

"Strange, you could get a cell phone. I'll give you SI latest model," Tony said ironically, looking at the man in his living room.

"As soon as you think of one working in all the realms, Stark."

"So is it a social call, or yet another 'please call the Avengers because I can't be bothered to'?"

Strange smirked. "I just did, didn't I, Mister Stark?"

"No, it seems to me you didn't," Tony replied.

"Ah well, another time, then," Strange shook his head. "I'm a sorcerer, Mister Stark. Not a lot can be hidden."

"And I don't believe in magic, Strange. What's this about?"

"Doom."

"Of course," Tony said.

"Thank you for your help," Strange said. "The moment passed – he won't try that again."

"And we know that how . . . ?"

"You just said you wouldn't believe my answer." Strange shrugged. "I just wanted to offer my gratitude."

"Use the door on your way out," Tony said.

Strange, obviously, ignored him.

Tony poured himself a glass of whiskey. He hated magic.

***

_It was a charity gala or something like that, Tony wasn't sure. He took Steve with him, because he liked his company, and Steve could use some going out. He also seemed to trust Tony to know what wouldn't overwhelm him, and that's how they ended up dancing slowly at one event._

_It was fun, Tony hoped, for both of them._

_Steve had never known this kind of balls before, not really, but he wasn't shy, and Tony was always near him anyway._

_They talked, of art, of music; Tony drank less and smiled more._

_He felt young for the first time in ages, as if there wasn't a metal chest plate weighing him down._

_He enjoyed himself, really, and he'd always been used to the press around them._

_The pictures of him smiling with warm, content affection at Steve were in every newspaper the next morning._

_Steve didn't seem to mind._

***

Jan had her feet on the low coffee table, hands tucked into each sleeve.

"Cold?" Tony asked.

"Not really. Just . . ." she trailed off and suddenly straightened up. "Thinking about something."

"Can I help?" he asked, sitting down on the sofa, a glass of bourbon in his hand.

She looked at him and he could already see he was lost. "Tony," she asked seriously. "Have you finally asked him out?"

He looked into his glass. "It's not like that, Jan."

"Sure it is."

"No, I – listen to me. He needs a friend. He's so lost here." They were the facts.

"Not anymore, and thanks to you," she cut in.

He smiled a bit. "Do you think so?" He shook his head. "But no. It's – taking advantage of him. And he's on the Avengers, and I pay for it. It wouldn't look good."

"Since when does Tony Stark worry about things like that?" Jan asked, seriously.

"Since it's about Steve Rogers," he answered.

"Yeah. Think of it, Tony," she said.

Tony sighed. Jan was _scary_.

***

He almost finished the paperwork for the SI when someone went into the room. Tony looked over the papers and saw Steve.

"Hi. Pepper let you in?"

"Pepper asked to take you home, actually," Steve replied with a smile. 

"Ah, Steve, only on the third date."

"Tony, you look as if you haven't slept for ages," Steve said. "It's not healthy." He was acting so different from the last time Tony talked to him, it took Tony a moment to focus his thoughts.

"Yeah, let me just, finish with these . . ."

He put his signature on three more documents and leant back. "I should work on the Iron Man's armour," he said.

"You look as if you'll fall asleep the second you blink."

He felt like it, too, but the armour needed upgrades. Maybe Steve was right, though, he really should catch a few hours of sleep.

"Okay, maybe," he agreed.

"You should work less, Tony," Steve said. He looked worried. Tony wondered what he'd say if he knew Iron Man was also Tony.

Ah, no, he knew that.

_I thought you were better than that._

He covered his eyes with his hands briefly, took a sip of whiskey. He wouldn't think of it now.

"Okay, take me home, my hero," he joked and left his office.

***

He should've worked on the armour yesterday, Tony thought, when a giant jellyfish wrapped him in a tentacle and threw at the nearest building. He hit it hard, and he must have blacked out for a moment, because the next thing he knew, he could hear the team frantically asking for his position.

"I'm all right," he muttered, and winced. That felt like broken ribs. _Fuck_.

And what was a giant jellyfish doing in New York anyway?

He stood up and tried to fly. One boot refused to cooperate. Shit.

"I'm one jet boot short, Avengers –"

"We can wrap this up," Cap said. "Go see if Mister Stark can fix you up."

The hell would he leave them. He could compensate for the boot with a glove, maybe, and he just needed to find a high place to fire at the jellyfish from. He waited for Jan to attack with her stingers, and flew.

"Iron Man, what the hell are you doing?" Cap barked on the comms. Tony ignored him, focusing on flying, right hand outstretched for balance. He just needed to – there.

He fired at the jellyfish, fell down a few metres before he steadied himself again.

"Iron Man, stand down, you're –"

Tony didn't hear the rest. The jellyfish swatted a tentacle at him, and he couldn't dodge in time. He hit a wall, again, and pain flared in his chest.

***

"Iron Man!"

Breathing _hurt_ , and someone was shaking him.

Moving hurt too.

He should've worked on the armour yesterday, he thought again, hazily.

"Iron Man!" the voice got desperate. Someone touched the armour, and Tony heard the metal screeching, almost as if – 

_No._

He sat up, suddenly, ignoring the flash of pain in his side. He pressed one hand to the chest plate, keeping it in place just in case, and aimed the other at whoever it was – 

Captain America was a few steps away, hands up, a worried expression on his face. 

Oh. Tony took a deep breath. Okay.

"Iron Man?"

"A moment," he gasped. His heartbeat slowly turned back to normal, but the moment of cold panic was fresh in his mind. The chest plate was okay, Steve didn't actually pull it off, Tony was okay, Steve was just worried . . .

"The armour," he said. "You can't."

"You – I thought you were hurt," Steve said. "I know your identity is important to you and I respect that, but –"

"No," Iron Man interrupted. "It's not about it. The armour – it's a life support system. If you remove the chest plate, I'll die."

The worry on Steve's face morphed into horror. He stared at his own hands, terrified. "I . . . Oh god, I . . ."

Tony wanted to stand, put a hand on his arm, but he didn't feel steady enough. "It's okay, it's fine, don't worry . . ."

"It's not!" Steve shouted. "I should've known, I should've asked – I could've killed you!"

"Hey, Cap, it's not . . ." he trailed off. Steve took a step back, another.

"Oh my god," he said again. "I'm sorry, Iron Man, I'm so sorry –"

Tony stood up. The armour didn't let him fall. Good. He walked to Steve.

"It's okay," he repeated. "You didn't know." And if Tony had his way, he wouldn't know, because he didn't want pity or special treatment, not in any identity.

Something switched in Steve. He looked at him, steadily. "Yeah, Iron Man. _I didn't know_. Don't you think I should have?"

"You couldn't have," Tony started to protest.

"I – you should have told us!" Cap shouted. "It's not some – your life depends on it, it's not something you can hide from us!"

Tony raised his hands trying to placate him, too late remembered the repulsors and pulled them back down. "It wasn't important."

"Not important?! I could have killed you today, and it's not important?!" He sounded furious. Great. Just what Tony needed now.

"But you didn't. Water under the bridge, Cap."

"And what were you doing anyway, attacking it? Your armour wasn't working, I told you to stand down!"

"I couldn't leave you alone!" Not just the three of them, not when Thor was in Asgard, and Hulk god knew where.

"You were a liability! We took it down just fine after it _knocked you out_!"

Tony guessed that already, seeing how no tentacled monster had interrupted their shouting match yet, but hearing it like that wasn't exactly nice.

"Well I'm sorry for trying to help!" he shouted. He wanted to fly away, but he wasn't sure if he'd make the full journey.

"Next time you could just listen to me!"

"Because you're always right, isn't that so, Captain America?!" he mocked. He was angry. His whole body hurt. Steve was yelling at him. He also might have been right, but if anyone asked, Tony hadn't just thought that.

Steve froze. "No. Not always."

He walked away.

Tony wanted to kick himself. The Wasp flew close to his helmet. "He's just worried, you know."

"I do," he said, as quietly as the suit's speakers would allow him. "I'm . . . Can you go with him? Make sure he's all right? I don't think he'd appreciate me right now."

"You don't have to ask, Iron Man."

And she was gone.

***

Happy got him to the mansion and only gave him one disapproving look, so Tony counted it as win. He closed himself in the lab, downed a glass of whiskey, and started taking the armour – or as much of it as he could – off. 

Alcohol dulled the pain, and he was able to bent down to pull of the boots. Waiting for his ribs to heal would be just great, but he couldn't get them set, wearing the chest plate.

He was tired, but the last time he put off fixing the armour resulted in today's disaster, so, no. He started unscrewing the mechanisms from the boot, fighting to keep his eyes open.

He downed the glass when he started feeling his ribs again.

The boot seemed . . . blurred.

A sudden sound woke him up. Someone was inside his workshop – he fumbled around for some weapon, a wrench maybe, when he recognized his visitor.

"Steve," he said. "Sorry."

Steve smiled without any real joy. He walked to Tony and poured him a glass of whiskey.

"You should work more, Tony," he said, his eyes disapproving. Tony knew that much, but Steve always said otherwise . . .

"Iron Man got hurt today," Steve continued, and Tony fought the urge to laugh humourlessly. Of course.

"I know. I'm sorry," he said. His ribs were hurting again. He drunk the whiskey. Steve poured him another glass.

"It's not good enough, Tony," he said.

Tony knew that too, and it still hurt. "Well, I'll just go back to this boot, shall I? Or is there something else?" He picked up a screwdriver.

"Don't fall asleep again." His voice sounded like a warning.

When Tony looked up at him with some surprise, Steve was gone.

***

"You look terrible," Jan commented when he entered the room. The TV was on, some show he didn't recognize playing quietly.

"Why, thank you," he said drily. He'd spent the night fixing the armour and fallen asleep over the bench eventually. He'd woken up hungover, but forced himself to finish running checks on the armour before leaving the workshop. He felt terrible too, but Steve was right – he should work more.

"I'm serious, Tony. You should rest."

"I'm okay," he said, sitting down. He winced, his ribs protesting.

"I can see that," she said. "How's Iron Man?"

"A night's sleep and he'll be all right."

"Take your own advice," Jan muttered.

Tony didn't have strength to analyse that and bicker with her. He covered his eyes with one hand. He should get up, stop wasting time, but he didn't want to be alone. It was pathetic, but he told himself, just five minutes with Jan . . .

"Shh, let him be, he needs sleep," Jan was saying.

"I know," Steve replied, and then there was something warm and soft on Tony's shoulders, and he should move, shouldn't be that lazy around Steve, but . . .

He sat up. It was dark in the room, the TV off. He looked at his watch and swore.

He thought he was alone, but then he heard quiet breathing, and he frantically ran his hands over his shirt, to make sure the chest plate was hidden. There was a blanket over him and he breathed with relief.

"Tony?" Steve said. Tony could just barely make out his silhouette on the armchair.

"Yeah," Tony said. "Awake. Why are you sitting here in the dark?"

Steve shrugged. "I sketched, but then it got dark and I didn't want to wake you with lights."

Okay, that was . . . "I should work more," Tony said quietly.

"Tony," Steve said, something weird, almost pleading in his voice. "Stop saying that."

Tony shook his head. Steve agreed with him, after all, he'd told him that much, why was he pretending now? "Can I see your sketches?" Tony asked, both honestly curious and hoping to change the topic. Steve hesitated.

"Come on," Tony said, standing up and crossing the room to Steve. He miraculously didn't trip over anything in the dark.

"You can't see anything," Steve noticed, amused.

"Yeah, just . . ." Tony fumbled around for a light switch and squinted when he found it. He moved back to Steve and stopped. Steve looked terrible, black circles under his eyes and pale face.

"You okay?" Tony asked. Steve shook his head silently and gave him his sketchbook. Tony took it, but he didn't take his eyes off Steve. "You could've gone to any other room and put on the light," he said.

Steve didn't answer. Tony opened the notebook and looked at the last filled page.

New York. From seventy years ago.

"I guess," Steve said, "I didn't want to be alone."

***

Tony put on the suit, a bit cautious – he hadn't seen the Avengers as Iron Man since his and Steve's shouting match, and he didn't feel like repeating it.

The team was in the kitchen, eating breakfast together.

Jan smiled at him, and Hank raised his head from a scientific journal. "Nice to see you, Iron Man."

"Thanks."

Steve was tense.

"Cap –"

"Iron Man –"

They both stopped.

The kitchen was bright with the early sun. Jan was still in her bathing robe, Hank looked as if he'd pulled an all-nighter over some experiment, and Steve was dressed in a training suit, clearly back from his morning run.

The atmosphere felt heavy for a moment.

"I'm glad you're all right," Steve said, finally.

"Yeah."

"But you should've told us." He looked stubborn, his jaw set, his eyes locked on Tony.

Tony wanted to shout with frustration, but he fought to keep his voice even. "Are we doing this again? Really?"

Steve stared into his plate. It was empty already. "No." He stood up and left.

"Cap! Hey, Cap!" Tony moved to go after him.

"Leave him, Iron Man," Jan said. "He's just worried."

"Yeah," he said. "Worried."

"He lost everyone and you told him he could've killed you, trying to help."

Tony froze. She was right, of course. He was blind not to see it himself. How could he miss it? 

"Iron Man?" Hank said, pulling him out of his thoughts. "About this condition of yours. Tony is a great engineer, but he's not a doctor."

"Imagine his bedside manner," he snorted. "Thanks, Hank. Doctors did check me over. The armour is the best solution for me."

Hank nodded.

Tony poured himself a glass of juice and drank it through a straw. He thought of Steve again, stubborn and lonely. "I worry about him too," he said. "Sometimes it's as if he feels at home here. And sometimes . . ."

"You both enjoy yelling at people you worry about," Hank said. Jan jabbed him with her elbow.

"He's better," she said. "You know it'll take time."

"Yeah."

"For what it's worth, I think he enjoys spending time with Tony."

He froze. What was she suggesting?

"So does Mister Stark," he said finally, finishing his juice.

***

He wasn't sure what to do about Steve.

If he talked to him as Iron Man . . . It always ended in arguments, lately, and it hurt, because Tony thought they were friends – in both of his identities.

Steve trusted Iron Man with things he maybe wouldn't trust a civilian like Tony with, trusted him with the team . Personal things – these he told Tony, and Tony cherished it, and tried not to read anything into their flirting that probably wasn't. The point was – whatever troubled Steve now, it was about Iron Man, and he wouldn't say that to Tony.

Jan said to give him time, but . . . That might just be dangerous.

Tony sighed. The armour was safely in place. He knew where to look for Steve. He flew to the roof and stopped, several metres from Steve.

"Hi, Cap."

"Iron Man."

"Mind some company?"

Steve shrugged and pointed at the free space next to him. Tony took it as invitation and sat down next to him. There weren't barriers here; maybe he should install them, though Steve would probably just jump over them, if he wanted to. That wasn't a thought Tony liked entertaining.

"What am I doing here, Shellhead?"

"Living," Tony said. "You're living here now, Cap. And we won't let you just . . . _resign_."

Steve was silent. "You, Tony, the team – it's like family to me," he said, finally. "But I could have killed you, and Bucky died because of me. What am I doing wrong?"

Iron Man put his gauntleted hand over Steve's arm. "Nothing, Cap. You can't decide things for other people, you know. In the end, it's their decisions they make and see through."

"I'm responsible for them," Steve said very quietly.

"Well, on this team, I am," Iron Man reminded him playfully. 

"Which is exactly why you should stop trying to get killed," Steve snapped. "Do you know? Iron Man, you are my friend. Do you know how I felt . . ." he cut himself off.

"I'm sorry," Iron Man offered quietly, his metallic voice too loud in this weird space between them.

"You're my friend," Steve repeated. "And then you go and say, _let's blow up a town full of people_ , and you are my friend, but how can you even suggest, how . . ."

"Again, Cap?" Tony asked, sharper than he intended.

Steve looked straight at him. "And how am I supposed to let it go? I can't. I know I should, it's in the past, and _I can't_ , and I can't deal with it – with anything here, and what am I doing here?" He bowed his head. He was trembling.

Tony hated himself for it, but he stood up and left.

Leaving Steve alone – maybe he shouldn't do it, but it was clear he needed someone, and that someone wasn't Iron Man. And it wasn't fair, to lie to him – but he needed someone, and he didn't need to learn that the person he so despised for his morals was Tony.

In his bedroom, he took the armour off as fast as he could, and ran back to the roof. Steve wasn't where Iron Man had left him, moments ago, and Tony looked around in blind panic, before noticing him sitting a few metres further, staring at the city. Tony waited till his breath got even again and sat down next to Steve.

"Did Iron Man send you?" he asked. "I'm not going to do anything, you know."

"I can be worried," Tony said. "Do you want to talk?"

"Not especially," Steve sighed. "It's spring. I'm glad it's spring."

Tony reached out and ran his fingers through Steve's hair, just a gesture of comfort. Steve didn't seem to mind.

"It won't be winter for a very long time yet," Tony said, quietly.

"It's so unfair," Steve whispered. "I woke up here, and they're still dead."

Tony clasped Steve's hand and held it, tightly, so that Steve would see he was not letting him go.

"Maybe I need you here," he whispered, and it was selfish and way too honest, but Steve smiled.

"Tony . . ."

"Don't," he asked.

Steve looked at him for a long while, and then closed his eyes and just lay there, his hand in Tony's, Tony's other hand still in Steve's hair, and for a while, they were calm.

***

Steve was eating breakfast that Tony could live on for a week. He looked rested, less tense. Tony was glad because of that. Jan, as usual, still in her bathrobe, was eating some yoghurt, and Hank nodded off over some mechanical newspaper.

"Morning," Tony said.

"Hi," Jan said between spoons.

Hank was still sleeping.

"Hello, Iron Man," and Steve's voice was carefully blank. _Stay, if you want, I don't mind._ Well, that wouldn't do. Tony grabbed a can of juice and a straw and took a few steps back.

"Do you . . . I can get mister Stark," he said, quietly. Jan laughed.

"No, Iron Man, he's busy enough as it is. Thank you, though," Steve answered, all formal and cold officialism.

Tony hated to hear it, but almost anything was better than yesterday's defeat. "Suit yourself," he said, and finished his juice.

"Iron Man?" Steve asked, almost with hesitation.

"Yes, Cap?"

"Tell – tell him _thank you_. I mean it."

Tony nodded. "I will." He hesitated. "And I'm pretty sure his answer would be the same."

"You do know each other very well," Jan sad, cheerfully.

"I'm his bodyguard, of course I know him," Tony replied without missing a bit.

Jan laughed at him.

***

"Rhodey!" Tony stood up from behind his desk. "You're back?"

"Don't Rhodey me, boss," Rhodey said. "I'm gone for a week and a giant jellyfish almost trashes you? A _jellyfish_?"

"I knew you'd be jealous."

"Idiot," Rhodey said, and finally pulled him in for a hug. "Be careful, Tones, okay?"

"You know me," Tony replied.

"And that scares me."

Tony playfully punched him in the arm. "Come on, I'm not that bad."

Rhodey's incredulous look spoke volumes.

"I just . . ." he started saying, shook his head. "The jellyfish doesn't matter." Rhodey gave him a look, and Tony hurried to continue before he'd cut him off. "Doom had WMDs stocked and modified them somehow. Strange says it was for a – ritual."

"Magic," Rhodey put in, and Tony glared at him.

"The thing is, it is – it was true. He had these bombs, aimed at New York, and he was getting them ready. We . . ." He closed his eyes. He wouldn't think of Steve, not now. "We stopped him. Strange says it's enough, because the time passed. I don't know, Jupiter passed Venus or other bullshit."

"Magic, Tony," Rhodey repeated, way to gleefully, and then got serious. "So what's the problem?"

"I don't know," Tony admitted. "Jan said no one had noticed her and I believe her. But as soon as we got back, Doombots attacked SI."

"You're suggesting he knew it was you who stopped him?"

"Well, who else. If Reed was in this dimension, Strange would've gone to him. But, no, and the Quinjet is quick. I think . . . He knew he'd end up destroying the East Coast. It's as if he wanted to save something."

Rhodey snorted. "Sorry to break it to you, boss, but he'd go for Reed."

"You know that's not what I mean. He's been after my technology for years. And now, with Iron Man . . ."

Rhodey frowned. "You're suggesting he wants the armour."

"I _know_ he wants the armour," Tony corrected him. "But he hasn't done anything else since. He could be planning, but . . . well, the man is a genius. He would've connected the dots. I feel like he's doing something and I can't see it." He pressed his hands into his face for a moment. "And between Iron Man and SI . . ." He looked around, took a sip of whiskey. "What if I don't notice it?"

Rhodey looked at him, worried. "You look like shit, Tony. And you shouldn't drink that much. But if anyone can notice what he's doing, it's you."

"Or Reed," Tony allowed. "And he hasn't seen anything either, but . . ."

"I know you have to be paranoid, Tones, but seriously, take a day off."

"Yeah," he said. They both knew he lied.

Tony stood up and suddenly swayed on his legs. His chest was hurting, he could hardly breathe – he was dimly aware Rhodey caught him and carefully put him down, but he couldn't concentrate, his heart beating wildly . . . 

"The," he whispered. "The . . . chest plate."

"You let it run down again?" Rhodey snapped, but he was pulling out cables anyway, and Tony trusted him. He closed his eyes.

***

He woke up, still in his office, his chest plate charged. Rhodey was sat next to him, reading some engineering journal. Clearly he'd been keeping an eye on Tony, because not even five seconds later, he put the journal aside and moved to face Tony.

"You're a genius, boss."

"Tell me something I don't know," Tony offered, still a bit light-headed.

"Could you remember, just once, to keep it charged?"

He wouldn't and they both knew it.

"I wish you'd let someone help, Tones," Rhodey said and sounded a bit too honest.

"I don't need help," Tony lied smoothly.

***

Steve was waiting for him when he finally got home, exhausted and fighting off a migraine.

"Hi," he managed to say and wished he could just lay down on the cold tiles, close his eyes and cover ears.

Steve had to notice it, because he didn't even say anything, just put an arm around you and led him to his bedroom. Tony closed his eyes, trusting Steve not to let him fall, and was immensely grateful for the darkness that greeted them inside his room. How very . . . fitting. Steve didn't put the light on, the narrow beam of light from the door enough for him to navigate Tony to his bed.

"Steve?" Tony whispered hoarsely when he sat down. "You – waited?"

"I wanted to give you something. It can wait, Tony, you're exhausted."

He couldn't really argue that. "Thanks," he muttered.

"Will you sleep or will your run to the workshop when I leave?" Steve asked. Oh, he knew Tony too well, but today sleep it was.

"Sleep," Tony admitted.

Steve smiled at him. He turned to leave, but stopped, turned back, put something on Tony's night stand. "Good night," he said, and left.

Tony slept.

***

Steve was looking down on him with disgust. Tony couldn't stand it.

"I don't understand how I could've ever trusted you, Tony."

It hurt. Why was he saying that?

Tony looked away, couldn't stand Steve's expression any longer, and then he noticed he was in his armour – and without a helmet. How – 

He sat up. Someone was in his room and it was way too early. His head still threatened to split. He closed his eyes against the sudden light.

"I've been looking for you," Steve said, something in his voice heavy. Tony murmured something in reply. He wasn't nearly awake enough, and his migraine, while down, might yet come back.

"Really, Tony? Do you think you should be sleeping that long?"

Steve was right, Tony thought. Migraine or no, almost discharged chest plate or no, he couldn't just lie around. He forced himself to sit up, his eyes still closed.

"I expected more from you." That woke him up.

He looked around, because that hurt, and Steve – well, Steve was right, but . . . Steve was right, Tony told himself. He usually was just too nice to say things like that out loud.

And now he left him alone. Was he such a disgrace, really?

The clock near the bed showed 3 AM.

He was exhausted, but he made himself take shower and get dressed, and then remembered the paper Steve'd left for him yesterday.

A half-drunk bottle of vodka stood on it. He didn't remember that.

The sketch was rumpled – Tony had no idea how that happened – but he could recognize himself and Steve, sitting on the roof, facing each other and talking softly.

He preferred this to how it looked in reality.

***

He could see he looked terrible even without Jan's inevitable comment, so he put on the armour and only then left his workshop. He ran into Steve in the corridor between the kitchen and the library, and they stood, looking at each other silently. Early sun made Steve's hair look like gold, and Tony wanted nothing more than to reach and touch, even in his gauntlets of iron.

"Are you okay, Iron Man?" Steve asked, finally. "You seem tired."

Tony cocked his head. "Do you have X-Ray vision now, Cap?"

Steve laughed a little, surprised. "No, it's –" he cut off. He seemed almost embarrassed. "You have a very specific way of walking, Iron Man," he said. "It's actually quite obvious there's a human under your armour."

He didn't know Steve noticed that. "It's not that bad, Cap. Updates to the armour are worth it."

"If you say so. Still unhealthy. I wish Tony slept more, too," Steve added, mostly to himself.

"He could work more," Iron Man noticed, and was met with an incredulous stare he didn't really understand. But speaking of updates gave him an idea. "Let's spar," he said. "We're still learning each other's movements in fight."

Except it usually worked as if they were telepathic, once adrenaline kicked in and they were in the middle of the battle, reading each other's thoughts as if they've been doing so for ten years.

"Are you sure you're up to it?" Steve asked doubtfully.

"Sure am, old man," Tony replied. "And I have upgrades to test."

"Okay, Iron Man," Steve said, though he still looked as if he was hesitating.

"And we could ask Mister Stark –"

"No," Steve cut in. "Don't wake him, he was exhausted."

"But . . ." Tony started saying and stopped himself. What happened? Because Steve didn't lie, and this meant he wasn't in Tony's room earlier. But there was a bottle of alcohol. Did he get drunk? He was sure he didn't, but he might've blacked out. Or maybe he was going crazy.

"Iron Man?" Steve was a few steps ahead of him.

"Yeah, going."

***

The new jet boot worked splendidly, if Tony said so himself.

Cap threw his shield at him, and Tony jumped back, flew up and charged the repulsors –

Their Avengers cards went off simultaneously, and he stopped mid-movement.

"Well," Iron Man said. "At least we're already suited up."

Steve laughed, and it warmed something in Tony, that they could both still joke like this, Captain America and Iron Man.

"Come on," he said, flying down. Cap understood him in the same moment, put his arm around Iron Man's waist and then they were flying towards Stark Industries, because clearly that was the favourite place to attack of the week for every supervillains. Really, he was just waiting for all the other companies in the vicinity to get packing and move their offices away.

It was a quick journey, not even two minutes in the air.

Iron Man stopped just before the SI building. He couldn't actually see the reported Doombots yet, and he thought they must have been on the other side. He looked at his scanner.

"Cap?"

"Yeah, Iron Man?"

"Their target isn't SI."

"Then what?" Steve frowned.

"The next building. Funtime Incorporated. No idea why."

"Maybe it's a decoy," Cap said. "They want us to go there, and then they'll attack SI."

"They could've chosen one further ahead," Iron Man noticed.

"Yes." Steve hesitated. "Iron Man – shouldn't you go to Mister Stark?"

"He's safe at the mansion."

Steve looked doubtful. Before he could reply, a Doombot showed up in the air, a few metres from them, and attacked. Iron Man ducked, attacking him with a repulsor, and then, trusting Steve to deflect any attacks with his shield, turned away and flew them to the street. He set Steve safely on the ground – unharmed, and flew higher back. Jan and Hank would be here in a matter of minutes, and they could handle a few Doombots.

They were acting . . . weirdly, Tony noticed. As if they were . . . defending, not attacking the building, flying in a circle around it.

No, he realised, and it all made sense.

They couldn't move further away from the other building, because their energy source and connection was there. Because they needed to wait to be charged enough before they attack for real – it wasn't Funtime that was their goal.

Because it was a trap – and a good one. There were people in the building, innocent people –

His moment of thought cost him a shot to the arm. It couldn't harm the armour, but it still hurt, and he needed to concentrate. They needed to take down the Doombots, and fast. Before they managed to use their whole fire power on Stark Industries.

"Iron Man? Any ideas what's going on?" Cap asked on the comms. "They're acting – almost as if they're defending the other building."

"Weeeell... You are not wrong, Cap," Tony said. "They're attacking SI, but we won't stop them like this. I need time."

"Iron Man! What do you mean? Come back down _now_!"

Cap wasn't the leader of their group, but it didn't matter. Tony flew down and stood next to him.

"This building – Funtime Inc. – Doombots work in a network. That's their centre. I know what to do, but I need to do it fast."

It wasn't how they usually worked, either, but that was something to think of at another time, not in the middle of a fight.

"That's not an option, Iron Man. You're putting yourself in danger. We don't know – anything, really, you can't be sure what you'll see there, there are innocents on the scene . . ."

Did Cap really think he was an idiot?

"Just trust me!" Iron Man shouted, losing his nerves. It was about time, and Steve . . .

Steve stood straight, his jaw set. "Trust you?" he repeated. "To blow it up? There are people inside, but I guess it doesn't matter."

It hurt. It hurt, that he would think that of him. And in the same time, it was infuriating, because it was a different situation, and he had to get there in time. Steve remembering that argument again and again – they couldn't go on like this.

"Fuck you, Cap." He turned back. "I'm going in. I know what I'm doing."

He flew back up, avoided a few shots, and made his way to the Funtime Inc. roof, pretending not to hear Steve yelling on the comms, Jan's worried questions, nothing. He needed to do this quickly.

He landed on the roof and blasted his way inside. He'd expected executive offices, but instead he found himself in the middle of a room filled with cubicle desks.

"I know most of you are innocent," he said, when the employees started to stand up in shock and fear, "but I really need to find one room here."

He looked at his armour reader. He was close, but . . . where? He turned around and the reader lit up as he faced the wall. Of course.

He blasted right through it (he could just imagine tomorrow's headlines; "Iron Man takes corporate warfare a bit too literally"), and found what he was looking for. A server room, and Tony was willing to bet his armour it held all the programming for the Doombots swarm outside.

And well, the Doombot guarding it was kind of a hint as well. Just one. Maybe Doom himself . . . No, he wouldn't be hiding. He was too arrogant for that.

"A chain system like that? Not safe," Tony said, looking around them, taking in the computers.

"You will not teach Doom on science, Iron Man," the Doombot said. "Your maker, maybe he could . . ."

That was creepy, Tony thought. Compliments from supervillains, yeah, no.

He needed to take the Doombot out quickly and to keep the innocent people outside safe. He also couldn't wreck the room they were in. He needed this computers in working order. There was really one sure way to do it. He put all the power to the boots, jumped forward, grabbed the Doombot and before he could react, took them away from the room and up, through the hole in the ceiling he'd made already. The Doombot gripped him by his arms and sent an electric shock through his gauntlets, and Tony clenched his teeth hard. He could fry the armour systems just with the one, but it hurt all the same. Tony steadily took them higher up, though, and . . .

"Bye bye," he said, and activated the EMP charge.

For a moment, everything stopped. He hang in the sky, not moving up, not going down – and then he dropped like a stone, the dead Doombot falling away from him, and pain shot through Tony's chest.

He braced himself for an impact and couldn't hold back a scream as he hit the hard roof, nothing to soften the fall. He grit his teeth. His vision was spotty, but he had to stand up, he had to go back to the server room . . . He swayed on his feet, and the armour was heavy like that, but he couldn't take it off, he didn't have time anyway. He moved forward, stubbornly, until he reached his entrance, the hole to the cubicle floor. It was empty now, the employees having fled. _Good_ , he thought. He tried to lower himself, but he couldn't quite coordinate his movements, and even breathing seemed like a challenge.

It was a short fall, comparatively, and it still knocked breath out of him. He tried to stand up and couldn't. He was so close, dammit . . . He took a few careful breaths, tried to pretend it didn't hurt. It wasn't that far, he could just crawl.

An explosion sounded outside and he hoped he wasn't too late. He crawled to the hidden server room, pushing himself off desks and chairs. Invincible Iron Man, who was he kidding. He just needed to . . . Pain shot through him and he gasped for breath. He needed to change the chest plate, but first things first. He was almost at the desk with the computer console. He pulled himself up with a great effort, and then grasped the desk and leant on it for a long moment. He had to . . .

Time to show that there was a human under the armour. Shame Steve wouldn't see it. He pulled off both gauntlets. He took a deep breath, and started typing.

The system was ridiculously easy, and it was for the best. He was behind the first firewall in a few key strokes. It took a few more to find the ones responsible for control – Doombots operated on basic AI, but these one, these were something else, connected together, there should be . . . He smiled, finding the sequence. A few key strokes. Another password to break . . . _Access Granted_ flashed over the screen. He smiled, and typed in the final command.

He pressed enter and fell down.

***

Someone was shaking him. There was a cold hand gripping his wrist. He opened his eyes.

Steve was leaning over him, looking worried, but unharmed. Good.

"Iron Man, come on," he said.

"Am fine," Tony tried to say and wasn't sure what came out of his mouth.

"You're not," Steve snapped. "You're – what do we do?"

 _We_? Ah, there was Jan flying next to his head, and Hank must have been somewhere, but Tony couldn't move to see.

"The mansion," he said, and blacked out again.

***

He came to and everything hurt.

"His armour is fried," Hank said. "He must have used EMP on that Doombot when he took him up."

"He _what_?" Steve shouted.

Tony wanted to protest, his head hurt enough without people screaming over him, and he couldn't breathe, much less talk.

***

The next time he regained consciousness, someone was carrying him. It must have been Steve, no one else would be able to, not when he was in the armour.

"Tony isn't anywhere," Jan said, her voice pitched high.

"How do you mean, he was here . . ."

He was there, Tony though grimly. He needed them to . . . "The lab," he said. He opened his eyes. His vision was blurry.

"Iron Man?" Steve said. "What –"

"The lab," Tony repeated weakly.

"It's closed, Tony isn't there," Jan said. She seemed panicked.

"Mr Stark has . . ." he paused, tried to take a deeper breath, couldn't. "A spare chest plate," he finished.

Steve was already moving. Tony focused on breathing.

"But it's closed down," Jan said.

"I have override codes," Steve said, and they didn't talk more for a few seconds. "Iron Man, I need to – can you stand?"

"I can support him," Hank said, and Steve let Tony down, gently, his hand still around his waist, and Tony _couldn't_ stand, he leant against him. He couldn't feel through the armour, but he thought Hank helped too, and then Steve punched in the entrance code and the door opened with a soft hiss.

"Leave me," Tony said. Steve just lifted him again.

"I can manage, leave me –" Tony repeated.

"You can't even stand," Steve said.

"Tell me what you need," Hank said.

They couldn't stay, Tony thought, panicked. They couldn't – he had to do it alone. He would manage. They couldn't stay, couldn't see him, it was bad enough Cap had to carry him here – they would only see him as a liability if they didn't already, they needed to get out.

"Leave me," he said again.

"No," Steve said, and Tony knew this tone of voice. But he had to go, he had to understand . . .

"I don't –" Tony stopped. He could see they wouldn't leave him alone, and his chest hurt more and more. "The silver cabinet – next to the welding bench. Cap, your code should . . ." He lost his breath again, but he'd said enough. Steve put him down somewhere – a lab bench, probably, Tony didn't feel like opening his eyes. He waited. He heard some metallic sound, and steps.

"Tell us what to do," Hank said. Tony bit his lip. He opened his eyes and saw Steve holding the spare chest plate. Hank was next to him. He couldn't see Jan. The shapes seemed funny, mixing together in his eyes.

"Leave the helmet on," he said. "Clasps – on both sides."

Hank leant over him and Tony heard two audible clicks. "Just pull it off," he said, and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see their faces when they saw his bare chest. No one had, and Tony hated to think how he must look like. A wonderful moment to discover modesty, he thought.

Then Hank took the chest plate off and Tony gasped. Cold panic washed over him. He tried to sit up and couldn't, and he tried to fight it, but he couldn't breathe, _and the chest plate was off_ and it couldn't be, it couldn't, it couldn't –

Someone grabbed his bare hand and held and Tony, inexplicably, calmed down.

Cold metal touched his chest in the next moment, and the two twin clicks sounded again. Tony opened his eyes. Hank was looking at him, visibly worried. Steve was grasping his hand, rubbing his thumb over Tony's palm in circles. Everything hurt, but at least he could breathe now, and his heartbeat was getting steady again.

Steve moved as if to pull away, and Tony found enough strength to hold on. 

"Can the debrief wait?" he asked.

Jan grew, and she reached to squeeze his free hand briefly.

"Yeah. Yeah it can," Steve said.

***

He woke up slowly, fighting to stay asleep until the last second. Everything hurt, but all things considered, Tony had been pretty lucky not to have broken any bones, he thought. He was in his bedroom. He didn't remember getting there, but he must have convinced the team to leave him alone yesterday. He looked at the clock and frowned. It was almost noon. He didn't have any meetings planned, but he did want to work on the armour.

And he should talk to Steve, because they couldn't go on like that.

He stood up, wincing at every movement. He took hot shower, hoping it would take pain away from his muscles, and then eyed the armour. He'd rather be Tony Stark today, and that wasn't a sentence he'd ever predict himself thinking, but looking as he did now, pale and bruised, there was no way of explaining it.

He put the suit on and went to face his team.

It was long after breakfast time, and yet they were in the kitchen, sitting over empty plates. Jan was sipping coffee.

"Hi, guys," he said.

Hank put down his newspaper. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. Thanks for help."

Steve was silent, his face unreadable.

"Where's Tony?" Jan asked, pleasantly.

"Mister Stark got called to DC."

"And he's not coming back?"

"The spare armour works perfectly," he answered. Steve's stare was making him feel nervous for some reason.

"I just don't understand," Steve said. "You told us you can die without the chest plate and _you set off an EMP_."

"It was the easiest way," Tony said.

"It was a suicide attempt!" Steve shouted. Jan winced.

"I saved the day, didn't I?" Tony snapped.

"You could have died, Iron Man!"

"But I didn't, so what's the problem?!"

"You can't go on making risks like that!"

"I don't think it's your decision to make, Cap."

They both stopped talking, stared at each other. Cap was breathing fast. 

"Iron Man," Jan said. "We were all worried."

"It was the easiest way," he repeated. "And all's well that ends well."

"It doesn't work like that," Steve said, quietly. "We saw you falling down and couldn't do anything."

"You didn't need to," Tony said.

"Iron Man," Steve said and stopped himself, shook his head. "Don't do that again."

Tony didn't reply, because he couldn't promise it. But maybe this talk with Steve would have to wait, because right now – right now they wouldn't get anywhere.

***

Tony ran into Steve on his way to the kitchen and willed himself not to wince. He knew he risked it, walking around without the armour, but he just wanted to grab something to eat in the lab.

"Hi," he said.

"Tony," Steve said. "I didn't know you were back."

"Just arrived," Tony lied smoothly. "I'm fixing the armour. I'm sorry I wasn't here."

Steve shrugged. "Nothing to do."

Tony gestured forward. "I was going to the kitchen," he said. Steve nodded and they walked together. Tony hoped it wasn't too obvious that his every movement hurt. Moments like these, he envied Steve's quick healing more than anything.

"Want a sandwich?" Tony asked, looking for a knife.

"I'm good."

Tony nodded and put a ridiculous amount of peanut butter on the slice of bread. Steve watched him with some amusement. Tony bit it and smiled with amazement. That's how heaven tasted like. He used the moments of silence to study Steve. He seemed relaxed at first sight, but Tony could see how it only went skin-deep. He was pale, his eyes were red, as if he wasn't sleeping well.

Of course he wasn't, if he was watching Tony eat a sandwich at 3 AM.

"Okay, Steve," Tony said. "How are you?"

Steve sighed, and for a moment Tony expected a short, _fine_ , but then he seemed to give up. "I don't know," Steve said, quietly. "I should talk to the team first, but . . . "

Tony sighed. He had an idea of what Steve would say, and he pretty much decided what he'd do. "Go on."

"I'm leaving the team."

Tony was sure he heard it wrong. "You – Steve, what?"

"I can't – I can't work with Iron Man. I'm sorry, but I can't get over it. It's my own problem and it endangers the team. He could have died, and it would be my fault. So I decided. Just, can I stay here? Till I find a flat?"

_What?_

Tony raised his free hand in a placating manner. "Whoa, Steve, back up a moment. First of all, you can always stay here. It's your home."

Steve looked down.

"Second of all," Tony continued. "It seems it's not just your issue," he said wryly. "Iron Man told me the same thing earlier. He said it was his problem and that he would get over it in time, but before that, you were much more valuable to the team, and he would just go back to being my bodyguard and help if you guys couldn't handle it. Which I – he doubts."

Steve had eyes wide open. "Tony, are you . . ."

"He just left, but if you want to talk to him . . ."

"No!" The speed with which Steve refused hurt a bit. "No, I – he needs time. We both do. I . . . I don't want him to have any problems with you."

"Who do you take me for?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Right. Sorry." He took a deep breath. "And – I really think it should be me leaving."

"Steve. Do you want to leave?" Tony asked seriously. If Steve said yes, he wouldn't try to stop him, and he hoped desperately he wouldn't.

"No, but . . ."

"And there you have it."

"Can you . . . tell him I'm sorry. What I said . . . It wasn't fair of me. Nothing was."

Tony closed his eyes briefly and made sure his breathing was even when he replied. "Sure, Cap."

***

Iron Man went into the living room. Everyone was already there; Jan and Hank at the sofa, and Steve standing over the window, facing outside, his posture tense.

Jan was glaring at him, but as soon as Tony came into her view, she moved onto him, and answered his question of whether Steve had told them what it was about. He didn't know if it was for the better or no.

"Iron Man," she said. "It's awfully early for you to be calling us."

"Sorry," Tony said. "I . . ."

He had on a metal mask. A sound filter was changing his voice. It shouldn't be that hard to say the damn sentence. Steve turned to face the room, but he wasn't looking at him. Jan seemed worried, all of a sudden. Hank was almost as tense as Steve. The atmosphere was heavy, and Tony knew they didn't know, and yet it seemed as if it was obvious.

"I resign from the team," he said. His voice didn't shake.

He didn't look at any of their faces. Steve had his fists closed so tightly his knuckles were white.

"What? Why? Iron Man, you –" Jan started saying, her voice stunned.

"We need you," Hank added.

Steve was silent.

"I have to," Tony said. "I – it's for the best. I will help a need arises, of course, but I can't stay on the team now." Wasn't it obvious, really?

" _Why_?" Jan was glaring at him.

"I . . ."

"It's my fault," Steve said steadily.

"It's not," Tony corrected him immediately. "But we can't even agree on that, much less the tactics in the field."

Steve let out a quiet, unhappy laugh, and stared at his feet.

"Okay," Jan said. "Is it about Latveria still? Because I really thought we moved on from that." _Hoped_ , her eyes were saying. She looked hurt and Tony hated himself for it. Hank seemed very pale next to her.

"It's not just that," he said. "Wasp, it's – look, I decided," he snapped. He thought he could handle it, he thought he was ready for their questions, but he wasn't. He'd never be. Telling Steve, in private, was hard enough, even when he didn't know Tony was Iron Man. Facing the team, telling them he was _leaving_ them – it unexpectedly hurt.

"Iron Man," Hank said. "If that's your decision, we can't . . . You can still think it over."

"I already have," Tony answered.

"I'm sorry," Steve said.

"Not your fault, Cap," Tony replied. "I do have some things to think over, yes, but it's not this decision. This is done."

He looked over them all. He had predicted shock and questions. He hadn't predicted how . . . shattered they'd look. He hadn't predicted they would care so much.

He had to leave, now, or else he would stay, because he was selfish and he loved being an Avenger with them, even though he'd learnt there was nothing but disaster waiting with both him and Cap there.

And the Avengers needed Captain America much more than they needed Iron Man. Captain America needed them too, much more than Tony ever would.

"I'm sorry," he said, and walked out.

***

Watching the Avengers fight without him was _hard_. He itched to drop everything, suit up and go to help – but he didn't need to. They were clearly winning, didn't seem to be in danger, and were working perfectly under Jan's command. There would be no need for him at all to even check up on them once Thor is back. He thought . . . He thought they would miss him, but instead it looked as if they'd always fought in this small, three-people team, and there was no place for him on it. And he'd known they would, he wouldn't have left if he really believed they needed him, but seeing it like that was something entirely different to thinking it.

Maybe it was for the best, though, he thought, watching Cap throw a shield at a super-powered thug and knocking him clearly off his feet on the screen.

Tony wanted to be there. To make sure they were safe. Maybe they would accept it if he built them armours of their own . . . He knew they wouldn't.

He watched as the fight ended and they rounded up the thugs. A bank robbery, really, what could be more cliché. Jan laughed at something Steve said. Tony wanted to be there and share it. He wanted to leave his office and go to the mansion, meet them and see with his own eyes they were all right. A journalist shouted a question, _where is Iron Man?_

Tony switched the TV off.

***

Tony thought of sleeping in his apartment near SI offices, but in the end he couldn't stop himself from going to the Mansion. To the Avengers. Maybe there wasn't place for Iron Man on the team, but he missed them. He wanted to be near them, for as long as they noticed there wasn't place for Tony Stark there either.

They would, in time. They weren't stupid.

He half-hoped he wouldn't meet anyone, seeing how late it was, but as he made his way through the dark corridors, he noticed light seeping from the library. He hesitated in the corridor. He knew who would be inside, and that was exactly why he couldn't just pass by.

He took a deep breath and walked in. Steve was hunched over a book, looking extremely uncomfortable. He didn't look at Tony, even though he must have heard him.

"Evening," Tony said.

"How's Iron Man?" Steve asked, just like that.

"Shouldn't I be asking how are _you_?" Tony raised one eyebrow. "Iron Man didn't fight anyone today, unless he's going stealthy now."

Steve didn't laugh.

"Fine," Tony said. "He's fine. But I want an answer too."

"It was weird," Steve said. "Without him."

"I saw on TV," Tony said. "You didn't need . . ." he trailed off. He didn't want Steve annoyed at him, even if he deserved it for a lot of different reasons.

Steve shrugged. "It was weird," he repeated. Tony didn't know what to make of it.

***

The next morning Tony was on his way out when he heard Steve's voice and stopped. He should go, he couldn't be late, and whatever Steve was saying obviously wasn't meant for Tony's ears, but he didn't move anyway.

"It's weird," Steve said. "I was so mad at him, but I miss him."

"We all do," Jan sighed. "I hope he'll be back soon. It wasn't the same, without Iron Man."

"You did great though," Steve said.

Jan laughed. "I know."

Tony forced himself to walk away. They would get used to it.

***

Days passed.

The Avengers fought, without Iron Man. Sometimes Iron Man fought, without the Avengers.

Tony missed them.

He lived in one, admittedly big, house with them, and he missed them. It wasn't Tony Stark who was their friend, shield-brother as Thor said, it was Iron Man, and he'd never felt it more than now, when the only topic of conversations seemed to be _where is Iron Man_. He hoped it would get better with time, and it didn't.

Jan cornered him once and told him to tell Iron Man that it was still his home and he could at least show up.

Steve didn't talk about Iron Man, but he seemed different somehow. Tony couldn't put his finger on it, but if he had to choose one word, he'd say withdrawn. He looked as he had in the first few days after they found him. As if he was mourning, and that wasn't something Tony enjoyed dwelling on. He wanted to help and he didn't know how.

Days passed, and he was working more and staying at the mansion less, and if he missed Steve like breathing, well, he'd stop if he drank enough.

Steve didn't deserve to be held down by Tony Stark.

Days passed, and Tony drank.

***

Tony was on his third glass of whiskey when a soft knock sounded on the door. He sighed and carefully switched the welding torch off, then pulled the protective glasses on his forehead and went to open the lab's door.

Steve stood outside, his shoulders hunched.

They hadn't talked for a few days. Tony didn't know why he was here now, but it wasn't important. Steve looked terrible and he wasn't usually the sort to come looking for people. That he was here now meant a lot, and Tony felt guilty he hadn't thought to check up on him.

"Hi," Steve said.

Tony put an arm around him and led him inside. "A drink?" he asked, and for a moment Steve looked as if he was considering, before he shook his head.

That bad, huh?

Usually he'd wait for Steve to start talking, but it wasn't a usual situation. He kept his hand on Steve's arm as he sat them down on a cot in the corner of the lab. "What happened?"

Steve stared into the wall behind Tony's head. He looked very young like that, pale in the artificial light, blue eyes unfocused. 

"I've just realized it's May," Steve said. He clutched at his dog tags, almost unconsciously, and Tony understood.

Memorial Day.

Fuck.

"You don't have to do anything," he said softly.

Steve focused on him, as if he just woke up, surprised. "How do you . . ."

"Genius here," Tony said. "Really, Steve. You don't have to do anything."

He was pretty sure there were politicians already planning to ask Steve to make a speech, and kind of surprised no one had yet. He could deal with them, tough, Steve didn't need to.

"I'm thinking I want to," Steve whispered. "I owe them. I should go." He closed his eyes briefly. "It wasn't even a question, back in . . ."

Tony knew Steve had been in Arlington many times already, but he also knew it wasn't the same. He didn't ask Steve if he was sure. He was, that was pretty obvious. He was sure, and he was afraid.

"I'll go with you," Tony said, easily.

"Thanks, Tony," Steve said. "I feel I should do it alone. I just . . ." he trailed off. Tony rubbed his hand over Steve's back, trying to comfort him. 

"Should I go?" Steve asked, finally, his voice sounding broken. "Should I go, when there's my grave still there, when I live?"

In the little space between them, Tony could see all the doubts in Steve's eyes, and he'd do anything to take them away.

"Steve," he said. "It's selfish. But the day w–the Avengers found you? It was the best day of my life." It was true, yes, but so was every following day when he got to talk to Steve, to just be with him.

Steve smiled, just a bit, but it was the most beautiful thing Tony's seen anyway.

***

Memorial Day was tomorrow.

They were all in the living room, watching terrible TV, and doing their best to take Steve's mind of it. Tony didn't have the armour on; the last thing he wanted was for Steve to worry about Iron Man now.

Steve had been quiet the last week, but he had made up his mind and he wasn't going to change his decision. He was on sitting on the sofa between Tony and Jan now, and he seemed calm. That was a good thing. Tony wanted it to last. Wanted Steve to believe he did belong with them, in twenty-first century. 

"Star Wars," Tony said. They all looked at him and he shrugged. "What? If we're gonna stare at TV we could watch something good."

And Steve liked Star Wars. But he didn't have to say that.

"I think I'll pass," Steve said, and Tony looked at him in surprise.

"We don't –"

"I like it," Steve cut in. "I do. But it's getting late, and I . . . I want to be rested tomorrow."

Tony wanted to smack himself in the head, and he just nodded.

"Good night," Steve said, standing up.

"'Night, Steve".

Tony sighed, leaning back against the sofa. He reached for his glass and took a sip of whiskey.

"He misses Iron Man," Jan said, and he almost choked. "We all do."

Tony tensed. "Iron Man –"

"I just thought," she interrupted him, "that Iron Man might want to hear it."

Jan was too observant. Tony closed his eyes. "He will."

"Do you really think Cap should go alone?" Hank asked suddenly.

"No," Tony said. "But he wants to, so I'm not going to argue that."

"Tony Stark, accepting something like that, what has the world come to," Jan said.

He cracked an eye open to glare at her. "You know why."

She smiled, understanding.

***

He was bored out of his mind drinking coffee and making a small talk with Mister Newton, Funtime CEO, all in a preparation to say _no, Iron Man didn't blow up your building for fun_ , when they heard glass shattering and screams. He stood up, his suitcase already in hand, and looked around.

"Take the back door," he called at the other customers.

"Mister Stark, explosions seem to follow you," Newton said.

"You can't blame that on me," Tony flashed him a smile. "Iron Man should take care of that though. Come on."

He pushed the other man in front of himself and pretended to get lost among people trying to leave the café through a narrow entrance; he found an empty office and put the suit on.

He headed outside and blinked. A jewellery store next to the café had its windows blown in, and a winged man was there. Tony hadn't got any sleep last night, and he wasn't entirely sober, but supervillains didn't wait, and he'd be damned if Cap had to leave Arlington for a guy in green spandex. Anyway, if he couldn't handle him himself, there were always the Wasp and Ant-Man to be called. Except just as they could deal without him, he could deal without them, and really, it wasn't a serious situation. Tony was pretty sure it was one of Spider-Man bad guys and that was, frankly, amusing.

"You could have just waited till tomorrow for it to open," he said.

The guy snarled at him. He grabbed the door, tore it from the hinges and threw it at Tony. Tony dodged easily, firing repulsors at Vulture. He flew up, charging the unibeam, and Vulture jumped in the air after him. Tony was almost ready to fire when Vulture threw a grenade at him, and Tony knew he had to risk it. He caught it, swung to throw it higher up, because he couldn't let it fall to the ground and explode, there were still too many panicked people –

It went off in his hand, and he bit his tongue to stop the scream. The armour should have protected him, but –

He hit the road, hard. Disoriented, he tried to stand up, when had he fallen –

"Iron Man, need some help?" Spider-Man swung over him on his webs. "I'll take it. Go oil yourself."

He hadn't just got taken down by _Vulture_ , Tony thought, disbelieving.

Except clearly he had. In front of people who all were filming it with their mobiles instead of, oh, he wasn't sure, running away to safety.

Great.

***

Tony closed himself in the workshop the moment he made it back to the mansion, took the armour off and apart.

A simple grenade should not have affected him. He was behind with updates, yes, but . . . He shook his head, trying to clear it, looked around and found a half-drunk bottle. Just what he needed, he thought, pouring himself a glass. He knew another series of questions about Iron Man being safe was coming and while he knew how to deal with journalists and politicians alike, he hated it.

And he had to fix the armour. He downed the glass and set to work.

***

He wasn't sure what time it was when Steve opened the door to the workshop and carefully closed them. He looked terrible. Tony didn't even manage to stand up before Steve was on him, his eyes accusing, desperate, his hand on Tony's wrist, gripping with bruising force.

"Steve . . . ?"

Tony tried to free his hand, to no avail. He wouldn't be able to even if he was sober – but Steve never used his strength, not like that, what was wrong? Tony knew he shouldn't have let him go to Arlington alone.

"Shit, Steve, what are you doing?"

Steve looked at him, something incredibly cold in his eyes, and then moved his hand back. "I – I don't know."

Tony touched his freed wrist and hissed with pain. It was a miracle it wasn't broken. 

"You – you promised to help me," Steve said and accusation was clear in his voice. 

Please, no, Tony thought. Not that. Please, let there be a supervillain attack, anything – he couldn't deal with Steve sounding that detached and defeated at once. He knew it was his fault well enough on his own. He reached for a glass and Steve didn't stop him, just looked on as he downed it in one go and poured himself another.

"I trusted you," Steve said. "And . . . the people there, Tony, and you let me go alone."

 _You wanted to go alone_ , Tony wanted to say, but it didn't matter. He knew he shouldn't have agreed, he knew he failed.

"I saw the footage," Steve said, out of nowhere. "Iron Man. Is he in hospital?"

"No, he's . . ."

"His armour wasn't good enough, right?"

The armour hadn't been good enough just then, because Tony spent the day talking to Steve, convincing him that twenty-first century was _his_ , too, and it was more than worth any pain.

"I don't even know why I care for Iron Man," Steve said, quietly. "He – I can't understand it. His morals. It's . . . Repulsive, really, I despise him, but he was my friend."

 _Was_. Tony couldn't hear it anymore. He couldn't.

"Maybe one more glass, Stark?" Steve snarled suddenly, passing him a full bottle. Tony's eyes were wet. He took the bottle, and drank.

"Maybe it's because you're a drunk. And you left me, and he could've died because of you. How can you live with that? Yet another life wasted, like Yinsen?"

Tony flinched. He'd never suspected – it was a low blow, but Steve was right. No one deserved to be hurt because of him. And that's why no one was.

"No," he said.

"No," Steve repeated. "Oh, Tony. I trusted you so much, but I shouldn't have. And now you're lying."

"No one risks their lives for me," he clarified. He was drunk, his fingers clumsy, but he managed to open the first few buttons of his shirt, unrevealing the hard, metal chest plate underneath. "I am Iron Man. No one else. And I'm sorry, I'm sorry for lying, I know you hate me and despise me and you're right to, just, don't leave, Steve, _please_ don't leave." He was maybe crying at the end, he wasn't sure; alcohol made everything blurry.

But it didn't dull the pain when Steve didn't even look at him before leaving.

***

Tony woke up on the cold floor of the workshop, disinclined to move. He pressed his cheek closer to the floor, hoping it would reduce the dull headache.

 _Please let last night be a bad dream_ , he thought, knowing it wasn't. He'd always known he was a failure. Now Steve knew too. What difference did it make?

None at all, Tony tried to believe. He moaned, tried to sit up, because he couldn't spend the day like that, no matter how much he wanted to just disappear, how much better it would be for everyone if he did.

"Pathetic," he heard, and spun his head around.

Steve was leaning against the door. "And you're piloting a destructive suit."

" _I have to_ ," Tony said. There was no other way he could try to make up for everything.

"As I said, pathetic. You're a danger to everyone."

Tears threatened to fall down his face, but he fought to stop them. "It's not true," he whispered, knowing it was.

"Isn't it?" Steve just asked idly.

"Fuck you," Tony said. "You don't . . . "

But Steve did understand and he was right. 

Tony didn't know what to do. He heard the door closing, and cried.

***

Tony wasn't avoiding the Avengers.

He just happened to go to his office every day, work till it was late, go to his apartment instead of the mansion and get drunk. Rinse and repeat.

He wasn't avoiding the Avengers, he was just . . . busy.

He wasn't ready for the sight of Steve in his office, staying by the door, looking unsure.

"Hi, Tony," he said.

Tony rubbed at his forehead. He didn't know why Steve was here. He wasn't sure if he wanted to find out. "Hi."

"You haven't been around the Mansion lately."

"I'm busy," Tony said.

Steve flinched. "I know. Sorry. You must have wasted a lot of time on me around Memorial Day."

Tony stared at the glass on his desk, not understanding what Steve was saying. "It's okay," he said, because it probably was; it was Steve after all.

Steve, who was good and responsible and trustworthy. Steve, who was everything Tony wasn't. Steve, who still seemed to worry, when Tony expected more anger and accusations.

"Come home today?" Steve asked.

Tony sighed. He never could say no to him anyway. "I will," he promised. Steve smiled at him.

And Tony had always known he would do anything for him.

***

He thought it would be awkward, but he was met with easy smiles at the Mansion.

"Wow, Tony, here I thought we'd never see you again," Jan joked.

"No such luck," he said.

She smacked him in the arm, playfully. "Is Iron Man going to show up at some point too?"

He frowned. He was there . . . He glanced at Steve, his face straight, and understood. Steve hadn't told them.

Tony didn't expect that.

"You'd have to ask him," he said.

"I would _if I saw him at any point_ ," she said.

Tony smiled apologetically, unsure why Steve was keeping it up, and unwilling to stop himself.

"Jarvis is making dinner," Jan says. "You look as if you lived on coffee the last week."

"Irish, Jan, give me some credit."

She looked worried more than anything.

***

He ate the dinner with the Avengers, and then went to the workshop. He used it mostly for working on the armour. He didn't feel like it today.

He wasn't sure what he was doing anymore. Fighting with the Avengers was what he loved, what gave him purpose. He had accepted he had to move on from that. He was trying to. But Steve . . . Steve made him want to be a better person. Even when his words were cruel – Tony knew he only meant them well.

There was a half-assembled gauntlet lying on one table. He lifted it and looked at it. Another weapon, when he claimed he wanted to help. But they _were_ doing good, the Avengers. Someone had to protect civilians, to allow them normal life; Tony knew it, even if he wished it wasn't necessary.

Making sure he had a bottle nearby, he started disassembling the gauntlet.

He wasn't waiting for it consciously, but he wasn't surprised when he heard steps behind him. He didn't turn to look, instead choosing to stare at the table covered with screws, wires and small fragments of metal. He knew how to deal with electronics. People, not so much.

"You're drunk," Steve said.

Tony shrugged. "So what."

"Should you be working on the armour?"

"Drunk, not stupid," Tony said. "I am a genius."

Steve chuckled. "Tell me how it works," he said.

Tony tensed. The armour was _his_. He didn't . . .

Steve put his hand on Tony's shoulder. It didn't seem very comforting. Tony wanted to shrug it off and told himself he was being silly. He took a sip of his drink to calm himself. It was just Steve. He didn't have anything to worry about, with him.

"Tony," Steve said. "What if you fuck up?"

Tony swallowed. What indeed.

"We both know it's a matter of time. I need to know how to disarm you."

Cool shiver went over him.

Steve was right.

The grenade had exploded in his hand, because he miscalculated. What if the next time someone got hurt?

His voice was shaking, but he did what he'd never done before, what he'd never thought he would do. There was a reason he'd never written down any kind of the armour specification. It was because he only trusted himself with it.

And now he told Steve.

***

He hadn't gone back to living outside the Mansion, if only because he was afraid Steve would come find him again, and he couldn't face him.

He felt more naked than ever, aware someone else knew the armour almost like he did. He hadn't put it on for two weeks. The Avengers handled all the threats during that time.

Jan stopped asking about Iron Man with that half-amused, half-hopeful expression that always broke his heart. Steve was smiling when he saw him, at day, and Tony always walked past him, hiding in the workshop, drinking. He pretended not to hear the soft knocking on the door, no matter how many times it repeated. Why the pretence? If Steve really wanted to see him, he would just come in. He always had.

And Tony didn't lie to himself. He missed him. He missed him desperately. He missed quiet conversations in the evening, and showing him the new century, he missed long walks and even early breakfasts, when he'd woken up just to see Steve in the morning. He missed all of it, but he didn't deserve it. And Steve finally saw it.

It was for the better, Tony told himself, over and over again.

He started going out at the evenings, getting drunk and going to the parties, and he couldn't take anyone home, not with the chest plate, but he could remind himself that even drunk out of his mind, he was still able to charm people into liking him, if just for one night.

It had to count for something, right?

Right.

***

He stumbled into the kitchen, craving coffee. He was hungover, but that wasn't anything new. An espresso or three and he would be all right.

Jan sat at the table. She had a cut on her cheek. On the other side, Steve had his cup in his left hand, the other bandaged.

Had there been a fight? Tony couldn't remember. He'd been pretty drunk last night, yes, but . . . They were hurt, and even if it wasn't serious – Tony should have been there to help. He definitely shouldn't have slept through it.

"Tony," Steve said. "Can you get Iron Man to talk to me?"

Tony froze. "I . . ."

"We really could've used him last night."

"I'm sorry," Tony said, looking down.

"What Steve is saying," Jan said, "is that last night doesn't matter, but I miss him and _so does everyone else_."

Steve still hadn't told her then.

"I'm sorry," Tony repeated.

He didn't wait for his coffee. He fled the kitchen.

He went straight to the workshop, closed himself down in it and stared at the armour. What use was it, really?

They got hurt and he didn't even know. Could he have helped, if he did?

He took the helmet and hurled it across the lab. Something broke, a shattering sound, and he didn't care. He slid to the floor and stared in space.

***

He didn't know how much time had passed, but he knew what he had to do.

The Avengers – the other Avengers had _expected_ his help. And he couldn't have done it. Even if he was aware of the fight, Steve was right, he was a danger more than solution. He hadn't had the armour on for a long time.

Maybe it should stay this way.

He looked around himself. There should be a bottle here somewhere. He had to tell the Avengers, but he couldn't do it sober. Ahh, there. Great. 

It took him another few hours to actually stumble out of the lab, but he knew his decision was right.

Jan was in the living room, reading a magazine on the sofa, sitting on her curled legs.

"Hey," he said, quietly.

She looked up, startled. "Tony!" She frowned. "Are you drunk? It's 2 PM!"

"Doesn't matter," he said.

"Tony, I worry about you."

He tried to smile. "No reason to." He leant against the door, got serious. "Are Hank and Steve here?"

"In his lab and in the gym," she replied. "Sit down before you fall down."

"Need to get them."

" _Tony_."

"I do, it's not fair to you," he said. He tried to turn back, hit the wall and stumbled back. Jan was at his side immediately, and she caught him mid-fall.

"Fuck, Tony, what are you doing to yourself?"

She dragged him to the nearest armchair, and he couldn't find his legs, but he needed to get the Avengers here, needed to tell them –

An alarm sounded, and she glanced at her Avenger card.

"Stay here," she snapped.

"Jan," he said.

She rounded up on him. "Stay here, try to sober up and whatever you wanted to say can wait."

"The alarm," he said. "Iron Man's not coming."

"I can see that," she snapped.

She left, quickly, running to meet the others, and Tony hid his face in his hands.

***

"We have to ask him!" Hank snapped.

"Let him sleep," Jan replied.

Tony tensed. What happened? He moved, opened his eyes. His head hurt. Light hurt his eyes. They weren't speaking loud, but the sounds hurt too. And why . . . He remembered Jan leaving to answer the Avengers alarm.

Fuck.

He stood up, swayed, managed to stay up right. He went out to the corridor. "Are you . . ."

The question died in his throat. Jan had her hand in a sling. Hank's hair stood upright, as if he'd been electrocuted. Steve was sporting a black eye, and his uniform was torn, revealing a few wounds. Clearly he missed the med team.

"Tony," Jan said. "You up to walking now?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking at them.

"Why?" Hank asked, sharply, and there was something weird in his voice, in his eyes.

"Hank!" Steve snapped.

"No, I want an answer," Hank said. "No one had seen Iron Man for weeks, and you all have seen Doombots using repulsor tech, so I want an answer!"

Tony flinched. "Doombots what?" he demanded.

"You heard me!"

"Hank," Steve said again. "Leave him."

"They _can't_ ," Tony said.

"Switch on TV, I'm sure they're showing it!"

Tony, feeling as if someone hit him, went back to the room, found a remote and switched the TV on.

It all seemed oddly disconnected.

CNN was showing snippets of a fight, earlier on, and the Doombots were there, and . . .

Tony knew how they fought. He knew it very well. The energy projected from their palms now, it wasn't their standard electricity bolt. He couldn't judge it just by looking, but . . . It did seem terribly similar to his repulsors.

"It's not possible," he whispered.

He sat down. He couldn't keep standing. It was not possible. It wasn't another villain using his tech . . . It couldn't be, no one knew the specs, they didn't exist outside of his brain –

"Tony," Steve said gently. "Could someone get a hold of the blueprints?"

"There are no blueprints!" he blurted out. "It's not possible."

"So you keep saying," Hank said, and Tony knew what he was suggesting and couldn't even argue.

"Did Iron Man . . ." Steve hesitated. "We haven't seen him for an awfully long time. Have you?"

Tony laughed bitterly. "Are you joking, Steve?"

Jan seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden. Steve had on a steady expression. "Answer me, Tony."

"You know the answer," Tony snapped. "I told you, and _don't pretend otherwise_."

It was so simple to just repeat the words. It was impossible to even think them.

"Tony, you're not making any sense!" Steve shouted. He stopped himself, took a deep breath. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm just worried. Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened," Tony said flatly.

"Are you sure no one else knows the specs? Not even Iron Man?"

"What game are you playing at, Cap?" Tony asked. Steve didn't seem to get his meaning, and he'd never seen him out right lie, but it didn't make any sense. "You know the specs. I do. So does Iron Man, but that's kind of obvious , isn't it?"

Steve shook his head. "Tony. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't," Tony laughed. "I was pretty drunk, but I remember telling you everything."

"You didn't tell me anything about the armour," Steve said slowly. "Do you think you have . . . ?"

Tony opened his mouth. Closed it. "I . . ."

"Maybe you're going crazy," Hank said. "Or maybe just say it outright."

"I told Steve how to disable the armour. How to rewrite energy. How it operated." The words felt hollow.

"You didn't," Steve said.

Tony ignored him. "I told him, because he was right, the Iron Man suit is dangerous."

"Tony . . ."

Tony couldn't look Steve in the eye. "I told you," he said. Steve shook his head, helplessly. "I told you that and I told you I am Iron Man."

Steve clenched his fists, tight. He took a few deep breaths, and then he walked out.

Tony looked after him, and couldn't think of anything to say.

"You _what_ ," Hank said.

"But you knew," he whispered, helplessly, because it was still better than the alternative. "Jan knew."

"You knew?" Hank looked at her.

"It was obvious." She looked at them, disbelieving. "You really didn't know?"

He couldn't understand the words. "I thought Steve told you," he said. He felt as if he was drowning.

She shook her head. "He didn't know." She frowned. "But you should have told him ages ago, Tony."

He covered his eyes with his palm. "If I didn't tell Steve, then who was it?" he asked, the question that was hanging over him.

He knew the answer.

The TV, muted, still played the record of the fight, the screen full of updated Doombots.

***

Victor von Doom had access to the repulsor tech, because Tony had been too blind not to notice he hadn't been talking to Steve. He wondered how Doom did it, briefly, but all the answers were too close to magic for his comfort. Illusions, probably. Hallucinations? He'd never been particularly sober to begin with, when this other Steve appeared. It couldn't have been physical, the Mansion's defences would activate . . . And Tony hated magic, but he knew what they said about illusions. Believe in one hard enough, and it might kill you.

No, he didn't know what exactly happened. He felt terrible not knowing, too; after all, knowledge was what he dealt with, he was a genius, he had to know and understand everything, and if he couldn't, take it apart and put it back together until he did. Magic didn't work like that though, and maybe, just maybe he didn't want to go into it further.

Tony knew he'd fucked up. He didn't know how to fix it. What he knew was that he had to talk to Steve.

He found him on the roof, facing the city. If Steve heard Tony approaching, he didn't let him know.

"I'm sorry," Tony said.

"I will help you fix it," Steve said. "And that's it."

Tony cringed, though he didn't deserve anything better.

Fix how, anyway. Doom knew the specifics. There weren't any blueprints Tony had to steal back. Just information, already in Doom's head. How did he fix it?

He didn't.

"The one thing I don't understand," Steve said suddenly. "The one thing that doesn't make any sense here. It's _why_. You said it yourself. You haven't even written the specs down. Why would you tell me?"

Tony laughed, disbelieving. "Really, Steve? You're asking this?"

"You didn't even tell me your identity," Steve said. "You kept lying about it. What did he do that you talked?" His voice was absolutely emotionless.

Tony didn't know what he was thinking. He didn't know what the right answer was. He supposed he could go with the truth. "I would do anything for you, Steve," Tony said, quietly. "He asked."

Steve gave a sharp, almost cruel laugh. "Sure," he said.

"Steve . . ."

"Leave me," Steve said.

Tony did.

***

He really fucked it up this time.

Just like he couldn't give lives back to all the people who died because of his weapons, he couldn't tear the knowledge of how to use repulsors from Doom's brain. One more thing to atone for. One more thing he could never atone for.

He took another gulp. He should've noticed it wasn't Steve. Steve wasn't violent, or cruel, or mocking. He was good and kind, to Tony and everyone else.

How hadn't he noticed it wasn't Steve? No magic was that good.

"Tony?" It was Jan's voice.

He was in his room, because he couldn't stand being in the lab, and for a moment he considered pretending to be asleep, but then he reconsidered.

"Come in," he said. "And don't put the light on."

"Oh, Tony," she said. She closed the door behind her and went to him. He could just see her outline in the dim light.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"What for?"

"Are you really asking?" he said, quietly.

Jan put her hand on his arm. "You know it's not your fault."

"But it is." He sighed. "I should have noticed it wasn't Steve . . . Why was it Steve, anyway?" he asked, quietly, helplessly.

Jan sat next to him. "Do you need to hear the answer to that?"

He didn't. "How did he know?"

He felt her shrug. "Anyone with eyes does." She reconsidered. "Apart from Steve. And Hank. And . . . Tony, it was enough to look at you two together. You took him to that charity gala and every gossip rag ran a story about your romance."

"And that's where Doom takes his intel from," he snapped, before catching himself. "Sorry, Jan. I . . . Sorry."

She moved her hand up and down his arm. "Stop apologizing to me."

He smiled weakly. "Steve won't even talk to me."

"Give him time." She hesitated. "He's hurt. He feels guilty. He cares for you."

"It's past tense, Jan."

"You're an idiot, Tony," she said.

"Yes," he said.

He didn't deserve her too, but she stayed all the same.

***

It was a few days later when he found Steve in the kitchen, alone. He was eating a sandwich while reading a newspaper, and Tony belatedly thought it was breakfast time. He hadn't really noticed, he hadn't slept yet.

"I can't fix it," he said without a preamble.

Steve looked up at him. "Good morning," he said, flatly.

"I can't make Doom unlearn it."

Steve nodded slowly. "Okay."

Tony ignored him. "I fucked up. Again. And I'm sorry for it. But I can't fix it. I – I will do my best to help you. I can design your uniforms, and weapons, and –"

"What?" Steve interrupted.

Tony looked down. "I mean, if you want to. If you can still accept my help."

"I –" Steve cut himself off. "What about Iron Man?"

Tony bit at his lip. "I think it's pretty obvious it's a bad idea," he said, bitterly.

He felt Steve's look on his face. "I may be mad about you lying," Steve said. "But you are Iron Man. And it's a good thing."

"Stop lying to make me feel better," Tony snapped.

Steve laughed humourlessly. "Believe me, I wouldn't."

Of course he wouldn't, because Steve didn't lie. "I'm sorry," Tony said, for what felt like one hundredth time and would never be enough.

Steve was silent for a long while. "Was it something he said?"

"I'll stop interrupting your breakfast now," Tony said. "Have a good day."

He turned to go when Steve said his name, and he still would do anything for him. He stopped in the doorway, steeled himself. "Yes."

"You know it wasn't me," Steve said, and he sounded _hurt_.

"Yes."

"But you believed him," Steve said, and Tony knew he didn't understand. "How could you . . ."

"I should have known it wasn't you," Tony said. "And I will never be able apologize for that."

"That's not what I –" Steve stopped himself. "Tony. Not the point."

"But it is," Tony said. "As I said. Have a nice day."

Steve didn't stop him this time.

***

"You're pathetic," Steve said.

"You can't be Iron Man," Steve said.

"Tell me everything," Steve said.

Tony sat up, breathing too quickly.

Just a dream, he thought, except it wasn't. Just as it wasn't Steve, which his subconsciousness refused to remember about.

He wondered what was better – believing that it was always Steve, cold and cruel and sometimes so lost, Steve who both told him he was pathetic and who trusted him in his moments of weakness, or that it was never Steve, just Victor von Doom's illusion.

Tony wouldn't give up these moments when Steve trusted him for anything, but now that he knew that Steve he saw, talked to and trusted for the past month – that that Steve hadn't always been Steve . . . It changed everything. He was pretty sure when he met the . . . not-Steve. But what about the times where Steve implicitly trusted him?

Was that also a lie? A lie designed to make him trust Steve more in turn?

He had had to talk to the real Steve, his Steve at some point, or he'd get suspicious, but which conversations had been real? He didn't know. He would never know, because it wasn't as if he could walk up to Steve and ask, "Hey, remember, I might have talked to not-you a few times, mind telling me when we really talked?". He winced at the mere thought. He didn't know how to deal with it. He couldn't deal with it. He had to do something, act, because the alternative was to drink.

Why not, actually? It's not as anything worse could happen.

He broke out a bottle of whiskey, and drank. It made not thinking about Steve a tiny bit easier.

***

He woke up hungover. 

He looked at the clock and winced. He had meetings to attend, way too soon, and he didn't want to miss them. He could talk about his business while drunk, but not if he was passed out. It was looking more and more as if they were going to buy out Funtime Inc. Funny things can come up from him destroying another company's building.

He got up, wincing as the world swirled around him. His head hurt, but he supposed he deserved that. Now that he was more or less awake, he might as well work a bit before the meetings. He planned to take a tablet and look at the paperwork, but somehow he ended up in the lab.

He hadn't been there since the whole thing with Doom came out.

He didn't feel like working on things that Doom would certainly use to harm people. But if his tech was out, he just had to invent better stuff, right?

He'd better start now.

***

He moved from the lab to the living room at some point, looking at the designs on his tablet. He was sitting next to Jan doing her nails, when the alarm sounded. She frowned at her hand, only three nails done.

"It sucks," she declared, standing up.

"Super villains have terrible timing," he admitted.

"You going?"

He shook his head, not looking at her.

"Tony . . ."

"You don't need me. Go."

He waited for her to leave before switching on the TV. If he couldn't go with them, he could at least watch to be sure they were safe.

Fucking Doombots, again, and what was it about Central Park that attracted their attention?

He returned to signing his documents, keeping one eye on the screen until the Avengers arrived and he focused on them. He tried not to wince each time a Doombot used a repulsor. He should be out there, it was his fault . . . But he wouldn't be able to help. They had it.

One Doombot shot Steve, and he didn't manage to cover himself with the shield. He stumbled a few steps back, and Tony was on his feet on the way to the armour before he could really process what was happening.

He hadn't had the armour on for a month, and it still felt like an embrace of an old friend.

He flew to the scene as fast as he could, pushing all the doubts to the end of his mind. There would come time for them, later.

And then he swore, because just as he saw the Doombots, he also saw Steve fighting one of them, fifty metres up in the air, and _what the hell was he doing_? He hit the Doombot with his shield, in the neck joint, and its head fell away. They stood in air for a fraction of a second, and then they were falling.

Tony caught Steve too close to the ground for his liking.

And they were in the middle of the fight scene, and Steve's cowl was red at one side, and yet he smiled at Tony, a brilliant, honest smile, and said, "Hello, Shellhead."

"You just can't live without me, Winghead." It seemed too easy, after everything, to joke like that. Tony missed it.

"I can't." It felt too honest.

A repulsor blast hit him in the arm, and he turned back, shot his own and watched with satisfaction as the Doombot exploded. "Try the original," he muttered.

His satisfaction dimmed a bit as he felt sudden pain in his chest, and he doubled over.

Fuck. He hadn't charged his chest plate – he hadn't done much apart from signing paperwork lately, there wasn't any need to –

"Iron Man?!"

"Give them hell, Cap," he said, and blacked out.

***

He came to on his armchair, cables connected to the chest plate. He blinked his eyes open. It was getting dark.

"Hi," Steve whispered. Tony looked to his left and saw him, still in the uniform, though without the cowl. He looked worried.

"Hi," Tony said.

"You're an idiot, Tony," Steve said.

Tony wanted to reply, but then he looked lower, and –

"Are these roses?" he asked.

"I've been told it's in good taste to thank someone for saving your life," Steve replied.

Tony laughed softly. There was a glass next to the roses, and he took it, and downed it. He felt immediately better.

"You shouldn't be drinking," Steve sad.

"And yet it was standing here," Tony answered.

"You have glasses everywhere."

Maybe he had.

"The Doombots?"

"Defeated and gone."

"Good."

"What were you thinking?" Steve asked.

Tony looked up at him. "That you needed help?"

"You could have died!"

"Excuse me, you were grateful thirty seconds ago!"

Tony tugged at the cables going to his chest, suddenly furious, because it wasn't a conversation he wanted to have while sitting down, connected to a wall socket.

"I thanked you, and now I'm telling you, _it was a stupid thing to do_ ," Steve said sharply.

"Good thing it wasn't your decision then," Tony snapped.

"Because your decisions are always the best!" Steve shouted.

They both stopped and just looked at each other, breathing quickly.

"I will not apologize for saving your life," Tony said steadily.

Steve laughed, unamused. "Because I mean so much to you that you'd been lying ever since we met."

That hurt, but he deserved nothing less.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Why did you . . ."

"Look at me, Steve," Tony said, quietly. "I'm connected to a socket, charging the only thing that keeps me alive. Would you let me fight if you knew?"

Steve looked at him with disbelief. "Iron Man – we helped you change it once and no one thought anything less of you," he said.

Tony looked away. "So you keep saying."

"I'm not a liar," Steve said.

"No, I am," Tony agreed easily.

"I just don't get it," Steve said, facing away. He sounded sad. "Why pretend . . . Clearly you didn't trust me. Why did you act as my friend?"

Tony wanted to take it all back.

"You are my friend, Steve," he said. "I'm me. I'm Iron Man. All the same person."

"You were arguing with me in the armour and trying to feel better about it out of it," Steve said.

"I didn't want to lose you," Tony admitted. It scared him how easy it was to say.

He heard a sharp intake of breath. "You might have."

"Then it wouldn't be worth it."

"Is that how you balance it?" Steve asked sharply. "Profits versus losses?"

"It's not –"

"Is everything just math to you?"

"Steve, stop," Tony asked.

"Why?"

"I don't . . ."

"Don't what?"

Steve still wasn't looking at him, and Tony couldn't do it anymore, couldn't argue with him without even seeing his face. He pulled at the cables, disconnecting them, stood up and circled Steve.

"Don't," Steve said. Worrying even now.

"I'll live," Tony answered. "I'm sorry, okay? I know it doesn't change anything, but I am. I thought it was necessary. I was afraid of losing you. I thought . . . I'd do anything for you, Steve."

"How can I trust you again?" Steve asked, very, very quietly.

"I can't tell you that," Tony replied seriously.

"I want to put it behind us," Steve admitted. "I don't know if I can."

"I'll wait."

"I know you're a good man, Tony. But the choices you make . . ."

"That's why I need you," Tony said, and looked away, because that was too honest.

Steve touched his cheek, briefly. Tony's eyes fluttered up at him.

"You'll have me, I think," Steve whispered. "I'm still angry, but . . . I know where you were coming from now."

"And the Latveria situation?" Tony asked, because he couldn't help sabotaging his life.

"Do you still believe you were right?"

He wished he could say, _no_ , and he said, "Yes." 

"I don't. But I wouldn't like you to lie for me, so thank you. And . . . Maybe I wouldn't like you giving up your rules for me, as well."

Tony stopped breathing, because he couldn't have heard it right.

"Just . . . Time, Tony."

"I'll wait," he said again, and Steve smiled a bit.

***

Tony was surprised to see Steve, waiting outside the lab, looking as if he was unsure if Tony would let him in. Apparently he still didn't understand that Tony would do anything, if only Steve asked.

"Hi, Tony," he said.

"I thought you said –" Tony started speaking at the same time. He bowed his head. Steve needed time, he'd said it, so why would he be here? If it was Steve, that is . . . Tony looked up sharply. "You said . . ." he repeated.

Steve raised his eyebrows, but something like understanding flashed in his eyes. "That we needed time," he finished.

Tony, relieved, let them both into the lab and invited Steve to sit in one of the swivel chairs. Tony sat on one work bench and started playing with some wires, just to have something to do with his hands.

"Tony," Steve said, almost carefully. "You thought – you thought it wasn't me, just then."

"It's not important," Tony said sharply. "I know it's you."

Steve sighed. "It scares me," he confessed, quietly. "I keep thinking that you should have noticed, but it scares me. Not that you didn't. But what you did, thinking it was me. That I could do that to you _scares_ me. That someone used my face to use that trust – that horrifies me."

Tony tried to look anywhere but at Steve. "I'm sorry," he said, not knowing what else to do.

Steve clenched his fists for a moment, but then took a deep breath and visibly forced himself to relax. "Stop, Tony. This is not your fault." He reached out, to Tony's cheek, waited for a second as if expecting Tony to move away. Tony didn't, and Steve touched his face, gently. "This information. It was really important to you. And you gave it up, thinking you were doing that for me. _That_ scares me, Tony. But I'm not mad at you because of it."

"I put everyone in danger," Tony said, because it was true.

Steve sighed. "You should've talked to the team, yes."

Tony hadn't known what was true. He'd felt so lost. No, he couldn't have talked to anyone.

"Tony," Steve said, quietly. He forced him to meet his eyes. "We're your friends. I am your friend. I will always be your friend."

Tony could think of a hundred ways to make Steve question it, but he didn't want to. He nodded, and they sat like this, Steve's hand still gently stroking Tony's cheek, and somehow it wasn't awkward.

***

It was a warm July evening. Steve was sketching in the garden, using the last rays of sun. Tony sided up with him, smiled. "Everything all right?"

"Just finishing," Steve said. Tony glanced at his notebook, and Steve swatted him away. "No peeking."

"Spoilsport," Tony said.

"Wait for five damn seconds, Tony," Steve said.

Tony pouted. "Okay." He sat next to Steve, leant his head against Steve's warm arm and closed his eyes. He was sure it'd been more than five seconds when Steve ran his hand through Tony's hair, gently.

"Done," he said.

Tony looked. "Oh." He didn't know what to say. It was him and Steve, dancing, on that charity gala months ago; both of them smiling, standing closer than Tony remembered it. It was a beautiful drawing, full of emotion, and it felt as if they were really moving. Steve in the picture was looking at Tony, just at him; his face warm, open . . . loving.

"Do you want to go to another gala?" Tony tried to joke.

" _Tony_."

"I know," Tony said, very quietly. He put his hand in Steve's hair and pulled him in for a kiss.


End file.
